Unintended Consequences

There’s a phrase in our language that I find particularly apropos today. The phrase is “unintended consequences”. I really hope that the current climate which has enveloped the gender identity issue is not intentional, but that hope is most likely futile. What has happened is that the efforts of the vast majority of persons like me to be productive, contributing parts of society are rapidly being eroded by liberal activists whose only goal is to force the rest of society to accept their world view.

How in God’s name have we suddenly become the linchpin of this destructive Godless move to force, by means of intimidation, acceptance of the choices a relatively small segment of society has made? Those choices that have been quietly gaining acceptance for the last twenty plus years have now been set back by a small number of self-important individuals seeking attention.

I have been working and living my life free of the fear of intimidation for the better part of the last fifteen years. Today, thanks to the liberal left I no longer feel the sense of safety and freedom to live the life I have worked to create for myself and for others like me who simply want to be accepted as who we are. Different? Absolutely, but not a danger to the lives of society in general.

So, I’m angry.

I’m angry on any number of levels. The first level is anger at the relatively small number activists who have chosen this time to advance their own personal agendas on everyone they consider narrow minded, conservative Christians and anyone else that tends to agree with that point of view. It is a typical liberal philosophy that they know what is best for everyone else and if you don’t agree with them, you are a threat their existence … literally a threat to their existence as much so as Nazism was a threat to the Jewish people. Those liberals have been educated to think that way without question.

The end result is that the people in our country, indeed the entire world who do question liberal thought and the process by which they arrive at their conclusions, those people are labeled narrow minded bigoted anti-democratic (the government definition not the political party) Nazis. The fact that liberals resort to name calling is itself proof that they are incapable of constructive conversation, and they are incapable of that because they are incapable of constructive thought. Our education system has seen to that successfully enough to have reduced the numbers of thoughtful people to affect the outcome of a national election.

On another level of anger, I find the willing accomplices in our press are ensuring that the advancement of the acceptability of those of us whose bodies do not match our emotional makeup has been set back by decades. And it’s not rooted in the gender variant community as much as it is in persons like Anheuser-Busch’s Alissa Heinerscheid who fancy themselves as being more enlightened than anyone else.

I have no problem with anyone wanting to share their journey in life with anyone who cares to pay attention to them. After all, I did publish a book on my own journey. What little I have seen of Dylan Mulvaney, she does appear to be one of those people whose body and emotional mindset simply do not match. But the mere fact that she allowed herself to be shown in such an unfavorable light casts a shadow on her moral compass. She has contributed to the unexpected backlash besetting Anheuser-Busch … Unintended consequences.

It has been my experience that when we go about our lives like any “normal” person does, that our gender identity becomes pretty much a non-issue. Even people who don’t particularly approve of the choices we’ve made refrain from overt displeasure in our presence.

But the in-your-face approach that Bud Lite has employed with Dylan Mulvaney has created a backlash not only against Anheuser-Busch but against the trans community as a whole. This is what happens when people like Ms. Heinerscheid stick their noses in where they aren’t wanted and try to cram their ideas down other people’s throats. And it’s not just her.

Take the legislator from Montana, Zooey Zepher, who has managed to create a minor firestorm by trying to cram her gender identity issues down the throats of her constituent legislators and the people who voted for them. The mere fact that she was elected to the legislature should be proof enough that had she behaved like an adult and not a rabble rouser she would have probably accomplished far more. What she ranted about was a proposed bill that would ban “gender affirming care” aka gender reassignment surgery for children, which I assume means anyone under the age of eighteen.

Liberals like to cherry pick one or two individuals or circumstances, attach a label to them and then lump entire groups under that label. They simply cannot cope with genuine individuality. The term most often referred to in that case is group think. And group think bans any ideas, thoughts, conversations or efforts at open and fair debate. Liberals simply cannot fathom any idea that runs contrary to, or even slight askew to, the main body of thought which most cannot even track back to the actual origin of the idea.

And that brings us to the subject of group thought about gender identity. Any time I publish something related to my gender identity and/or my political preferences the criticism I receive comes from people in the LGBT(Q) community. It almost always runs along the line of thought that if a person is lesbian, gay bisexual, transsexual or (questioning) they have to be a liberal democrat, because after all they are the only ones who are accepting of the way we live our lives. That is just plain misguided thinking stemming from ignorance. Why is it that conservatives are always the boogie man? And we are now full circle back to group think.

The group has concluded that since they all think alike that conservatives must all think alike. Nothing could be further from the truth other than the desire live our lives independent of the constraints the liberal left would like to place on us, and a general distrust of government. The experience that I’ve had is that while some conservatives may disagree with my choices, they generally accept me as I am as long as I don’t demand acceptance. In some cases, they may choose to consider me misguided and seeking attention. Whatever their feelings on the subject they are almost always willing to have a conversation on the subject. Liberals will inevitably resort to name calling and insults rather than a discussion on merits.

Conservatives, in the LGBT(Q) community are more numerous than one might expect because they don’t wear their politics on their shirt sleeves. And they are most likely to be Christians which is another taboo for liberal progressives in the gay community. But that conversation is for another time. What I want to get across is the idea that conservatives of any life choice have been too eager to compromise in order to express a willingness to avoid confrontation. That has been construed as a number of traits, such as cowardice, lack of compassion, lack of intellect. That willingness to discuss issues has led directly to the liberal left branding us as weak and ineffectual. And they have been very successful in that endeavor.

It’s time for conservative to fight fire with fire … adopt a no prisoners attitude. Compromise has been a total failure and if that isn’t corrected immediately the demise of a wonderful form of government will be on our shoulders. It will be on the shoulders of all conservatives, normal and LGBT(Q). We are the ones who will have to shoulder the blame just like a parent who lets their child run wild without any discipline are ultimately to blame for the outcome of their children’s lives. Liberals do not respect compromise or reason. They only respect power.

Conservative willingness to compromise with the evil of liberalism has had all these “unintended consequences” that have brought us to the brink of collapse.

As for the “T” part of the alphabet soup label. Those of us who are not subscribing to the current disruption of our society by the noisy attention seekers; we need to let the world know that those people do not speak for us. We have paid our dues to be a part of society. The spoiled children who are rioting and their willing accomplices in education and the press have not paid more than a dime in dues to be considered as reasonable people. The backlash which is occurring should have been expected and would have been totally unnecessary. Just ask Anheuser-Busch if they are happy with their

.

Do I really wish I was three again knowing what I know now?

It’s a question I have asked myself often lately. The news today is rife with stories of teachers, well-meaning or not, encouraging children as young as five or six years old to express a gender identity different from their biological sex. To begin with, I don’t for a minute believe that any teacher should be making those decisions for any child. That is for the parents and the parents alone to address.

But just how do I feel when I consider what my life would have been like if the knowledge, I have today was available when I was five years old?

To begin with, that is virtually impossible for me to imagine, but I can be reasonably certain that I would have been totally confused and bewildered. I simply did not have the mental capacity to even begin to navigate the emotional minefield that one is confronted with, when the mere thought that one’s emotional configuration does not match the physical configuration of one’s body. I had trouble enough as a young adult trying to understand all the implications of what I was feeling. There was no way that I could have dealt with the confusion at the age of five.

So, what age is the right age to begin to deal with gender dysphoria? Short answer … there is no universal answer to that question. The simple fact is that for me, the right age was somewhere in my mid-fifties. Do I think that is the right age for everyone? Of course not. Are there periods of my life that I would like to re-live as Georgia; periods I would like to switch places with George? Absolutely!

But I need to ask this question: would I be better off today if Mrs. Baldwin, my first-grade teacher had taken it upon herself to decide that Georgie would be happier as Georgia and proceeded to implant that idea in my undeveloped brain without my parents’ knowledge? Oh, hell no!! She would have robbed me of experiences and memories that I have of George’s life that no amount of therapy could replace. She would have robbed me of experiences that could only have been available to George but that I can benefit from.

She would have made uneducated assumptions about me, about Georgie that she had no right to make. I don’t even think a lot of parents today have the background or the knowledge to make those decisions for their children. But that is exactly what way too many teachers, who are being goaded by the teachers’ unions (aka NEA and affiliates), are doing without parents’ knowledge much less their approval.

In my presentations to college classes, I preface everything with the statement that when I discuss gender identity there are very few and far between facts and that what I have to say in that regard is strictly my personal opinion. I have been saying that for twenty years and I say it still today. It’s for that reason that I find it terribly wrong for any teacher to take it on themselves to encourage any child to take on a persona that does not match their birth gender.

In a study done in the late 1990s it was discovered that the suicide rate among gender variant individuals was nearly eleven times that of normal individuals. There have been numerous studies done in recent years which points to possibly higher rates than previously thought. A quick review of the subject on Google lists a considerable number of studies on the subject but none address the actual number of actual completed suicides.

Obviously gender identity is becoming a more common topic of discussion, but it seems that it is being affected by a failure to address the need for extreme caution in guiding the young people in our education system toward irreversible actions. I have addressed the irreversible issue in my own life by referencing that decision to Caesar’s decision to cross the Rubicon. It cannot not be undone.

And if I have not made myself clear … No teacher has the right to encourage at the least or to facilitate at most, any gender variant behavior in any child with or without a parent’s approval. Teachers simply do not have the training nor the experience to involve themselves in such a critical issue in a child’s life. That is an irreversible procedure.

So, do I really wish I was three again, knowing what I know now? Nope! Not a bit! The joy I find in life now is the result of a life lived in two genders … two worlds, and guided by God’s impeccable timing.

A Vision Is Not Enough …

12:25 PM August 1, 2021

I would have normally been on way home from worship service at the home of one of New Foundation’s Pastor’s. But not today, and more than likely never again. I have had few things sadden me more. The natural and immediate reaction to the events of the last few months leading to the last 2 weeks is to point fingers and cast blame. While there is plenty of that to go around that is not my purpose here. My purpose is to look back over the last 12 plus years and record events and actions, of the people I have interacted with as a result of my participation in the decisions and actions of the leadership of New Foundation. If that is taken as finger pointing, so be it. But if we are not honest about how we got here then we learn nothing and we are left with nothing.

I wrote about my introduction to New Foundation in very last couple of pages of my memoir. I had been bitterly disappointed in the results of ego driven performances of the leadership of my previous church Healing Waters Ministries and had finally walked away. It shut down shortly thereafter. Two of the people I had known there had persisted in asking me to visit the new church they had found when they walked away. I finally agreed to attend one service.

As I said in my memoir, one look at the face of Jabowa Whitehead and I felt I knew why God had closed Healing Waters. I felt it was because He had been holding open the door of New Foundation Christian Fellowship all along.

It must have been several months before I was invited to the Society of Sipping Saints. Being a recovering Alcoholic who worked weekends in a bar I had no issue with going to a bar with a few of the congregation and the pastors. I enjoyed the social atmosphere with the people I had just worshiped with. It became a regular occurrence. I had never had a social experience like that at any church. It truly gave meaning to the term church “family”. Since Jabow had asked me to take over the communication I found that time a good time to text all the people who hadn’t been in service that morning.

I had some disagreements with Jabowa, most of which were political. For instance, it was about that time when the issue of gay marriage came to the fore in the news and commentary sections of the various media. In a phone conversation with him I voiced my politically conservative opinion on the issue. He quickly informed me that it was extremely important to so that he could marry the man he loved, Pastor Juan.

Over the next few years our congregation grew quickly, and we soon found that we needed a larger facility. I, along with a few others, put in many hours making the necessary modifications to the new facility and soon we had moved from the small second floor rooms across the street to new larger free-standing building with a large parking lot which we needed with a growing congregation. We had room for Children’s Sunday School, and it too was growing.

But a change began to take place in the spiritual environment. I was still happy with all the people, new and old. Pastor Jabowa began adding people to the dais behind him and soon the front of our church began to resemble a holy roller church. I have to admit that I didn’t think some of those he chose should be up there. But I also felt it wasn’t my place to say anything. In addition to that change Pastor Jabowa abandoned his nicely but casually dressed appearance and started wearing a black robe. But we continued to grow.

Then one morning Pastor Juan wasn’t there. At the end of service, Jabowa requested all the leadership to stay behind for a private meeting. He informed us that he and Juan were separating, and that it was the result of 8 months of counseling. Pastor Juan was visiting family in Alaska.

I was personally in tears and stayed behind to tell him how heartbroken I was. I asked him at the time there was someone else in either of their lives. He said, no. I took him at his word. This all occurred in either late February or early March.

It may have been a couple of weeks, but no more when Jabowa told me he was seeing someone else. When I look back on it, I see it as the moment before the fall from grace. I reminded him of what he had said about Juan being the love of his life. He denied having ever said it.

Pride weekend and Sunday morning, when he should have been at the church preparing for the service, he wasn’t there. No one knew where he was, and no one had heard from him. He didn’t respond to text messages or phone calls. Pastor Cherry grabbed her laptop and pulled up a sermon.

The next week half of the congregation was absent. And the week after that half of those were not there. I had the opportunity to ask one of the men, someone I admired for his faith, if he was going to leave too. He responded with, “Yes, God has withdrawn his blessing from New Foundation.” The downhill tumble had begun in earnest. It could have been avoided if Jabowa had only offered some kind of apology and committed himself to a renewed commitment. But he never did.

The church was moved from that building to a conference room at hotel. That lasted for a little over a year. Then we found ourselves meeting to a bar. One of the last times I saw Pastor Cherry she said flatly that “we’ve got to get out of this bar”.

Just before Covid hit Jabowa and his next husband Pastor Freddie announced that we “would be meeting at their home. And that’s where we have been until a week ago when none of the pastors, including the one who was supposed to give the sermon showed up.

I have put all this down because I want to emphasis the importance of a pastor’s devotion to his duty and while no person is perfect, using the excuse that “I’m only human, is merely a way of self-justification for failing in one’s duty. Sadly, I have to say that I heard Pastor Jabowa use that very excuse on a number of occasions.

The word pastor is from the Greek word “poimen” which translates as “shepherd”. I came from an agriculturally oriented family background. My dad had a favorite saying for situations like this: “You don’t go to town when the ox is in the ditch”.

Unfortunately, just as the shepherd who puts his own desires ahead of his responsibility to care for the sheep in his charge, New Foundation has suffered entirely too much from personal priorities been placed ahead of the Shepherd’s duty. Sadly, for all Jabowa’s good intentions and amazing concept for a church configured like the early church before Constantine took over, that original concept of welcoming “all people” and giving them a family that maybe many of them never had, was lost in personality flaws of leadership.

  1. C. “Jabowa” Whitehead was a very loving person and everyone who ever knew him was forever changed. I was blessed to know him and worship with him and share his vision, but a vision alone is not enough. A vision requires effort, dedication, planning, execution of the plan, leadership and unfailing commitment to purpose. If New Foundation is to survive, it needs to be re-born with a commitment by all involved to dedicate themselves to the execution of all these facets of purpose and remember how we got to this place.

Just to Clarify

A recent communication from a good friend pointed out that a description of some people, in my last blog as “stupid” was probably not the best choice of words and as a result somewhat detracted from the point I was trying to make. In retrospect he was probably correct. I undoubtedly could have been a bit more, well considerably more, diplomatic.

When I was in early sobriety and learning to assess my previous behavior in an honest and forthright manner, I was told in confessing my transgressions that when I followed up my confession with, “but” such and such or so and so did such and such to cause my behavior that I totally negated my personal responsibility in the interaction. So, no “buts” here.

I am angry. And I feel justifiably so. I will apologize for using the term “stupid” but not for the assessments that followed the term. I know that I am only a single voice in the choir and that I have, in that respect, a total inability to carry a tune. But I will not let that keep me from singing as loudly as I can.

All that being said, I need to express an opinion regarding gender identity politics and what I see as a major flaw the thinking of many in our community. That flaw is the idea that everything we express must be expressed from the platform of our gender identity.

When I first became involved the activities of the world of the transgendered, I of course was primarily concerned with being an accepted part of the community. Having always been outspoken about my political views, which by the way included my religious views, I saw no reason to suppress those views just because I was wearing a wig and a dress. I immediately found that, for many in the organization, I was a heretic. After all, conservative religion and politics were joined hand in hand in the denunciation of the transgendered community.

While that was true to a certain degree it was definitely an overgeneralization of the situation. If you have followed my blog over time, you know that I certainly have not let the opinions of those I disagree with stifle the expression of my views. If I had a bigger following, I would probably be banned from Facebook and Twitter, but so far, I have not.

Enter stage right, Caitlyn Jenner.

She is the embodiment of what I have felt and expressed in the past. She is what the transgendered community needs badly because what she is saying, to me at any rate, is that gender identity is not going to keep her from expressing her conservative political opinions. To date I have not heard anything from her that reflects her gender identity. She has been strictly focused on issues that have nothing to do with gender; issues that affect average people in her state. If her gender identity is brought up it’s the interviewer who brings it up and not her. So, what if her transgendered status draws attention. It has nothing to do with what she feels the people of California need from the point of view of a very successful businessperson.

She should be an example to the transgendered community to put gender identity aside and be a contributing member of society … like any “normal” person would do without making gender the issue.

My parents never expressed an opinion of anyone based on issues they had no control over, ie … skin color, sex, physical handicaps. As a result, I learned to look at the character of people in my life. Did Caitlyn have a choice to visibly express her gender identity? Absolutely! But she had no choice as to the set of emotions she was born with and that is what she is expressing in her appearance … and to my way of thinking, an expression of her character.

In closing this blog entry what I want to say is, to our transgender community, stop with the gender identity excuses for not living up to your potential. Stop with the gender identity excuses for thinking you are a victim. Stop parroting the opinions of those who are telling you that you are a victim. There are no victims here, only people who have been convinced they are victims by those who need victims to support their own self-centered aims of controlling other’s lives … since most of them, from what I see, have had trouble controlling their own.

Dear Mom and Dad, P.S.

P.S.

A lot has changed since I last wrote to you … a lot! I hardly know where to start. But, I’m going to give it a try.

I’ll start with what’s happened in the nation in general. The panic over the nation of Islam and the terrorists it spawned has pretty much subsided. We endured eight years of a Democrat in the white house who was elected primarily because he’s African American on his father’s side. And then re-elected because the Republicans nominated a gutless wonder by the name of Romney.

The damage of that eight years was nearly irreparable, but one of the most unlikely people to be nominated by the Republicans and then elected president, Donald Trump began cleaning up the swamp. The only reason he doesn’t have a lock on election this time around is a Chinese originated virus that has killed over 150,000 people. The democrats and their willing accomplices in the press have done a pretty thorough job of blaming him even though he was the first president to stand up to the Chinese and begin the process of renegotiating all of the previous administrations’ bad trade deals. I can’t help but wonder if the Chinese didn’t deliberately spread the virus world-wide in order to derail those talks.

Now the democrats have swung so far to the left toward a near totally socialist agenda that even Granny would have to vote Republican, and you remember what die hard democrat she was. You should ask her about it. I’m sure she’s around up there somewhere.

So much for that. In my world, things have changed a lot too. After my letter to you was published with visions of royalties just pouring in and offers of a movie deal coming in by the day, I started working weekends at bar in Phoenix called The Cash Inn. And no, I didn’t start drinking again. I just liked being there and made a lot of friends there over the ensuing 5 or 6 years. The owners at the time Lisa and Adele, especially Lisa were some of my biggest supporters.

I got a considerable amount of support from others in the LGBT community. Keith, who I identified as “Keifer” hired me to help him re-model two houses. Unfortunately, he died suddenly one day owing me a substantial amount of money and his partner refused to pay me the balance.

Then I went to work doing remodel and repair work on another bar, Plazma in Phoenix. I got to know the owner Jim through my pastor, Jabowa Whitehead. We used to go over there after church on Sunday afternoon and spend time getting to know other people in the church. At one time Jim gave me an advance on work I hadn’t done yet so I could buy books to sell at a college in California. Which brings me to another person; someone who has become just about the best friend I’ve ever had, with one exception, that of course being The Blue Magnet.

I have to admit that I don’t remember exactly what year it was when Christine Curtain, The Little Green-Eyed Blonde introduced me to Jimmy Urbanovich, but it had to have been at least eleven or twelve years ago. Since that time, he and his wife Renee’ have become not only important supporters but have also become good friends. Jimmy has invited me back to speak at Crafton Hills College in Yucaipa every year but this year and that being the result of Covid-19. Renee was instrumental in getting a promotional video produced by her son for me to use, in an effort to book speaking engagements, but before any could be arranged Covid-19 hit.

However, the really big, I mean REALLY big events of my life have been one event leading to another, leading to another.

Seven years ago, this last June my financial situation had become desperate. I had been applying everywhere for jobs; Circle K, Quick Stop, Walmart, Lowe’s and Home Depot just to mention a few. I was really desperate. The leasing agent I leased my townhouse from had given me notice that they would no longer accept post dated checks for half of my rent. It was either pay all by the third of each month or face eviction. I would have taken any job offered at that point.

The last Monday in June I received an e-mail from The Home Depot central hiring in Atlanta. It said they had attempted to call me for an interview the previous Friday, but I had not answered. Was I still interested in applying for a job there? I couldn’t dial the number fast enough. After an initial phone interview at that time an interview was scheduled for 8:00 AM the following Tuesday at Depot 469 in Mesa.

My interview with ASM Vicki went so well that she asked if I could possibly return for an interview with the Specialty ASM Jeremy the next day. I said “Of course.” Then she asked if I was willing to come back that afternoon. “Heck, I’ll wait if it’s this afternoon.”

She responded that Jeremy wouldn’t be in until 1:00 PM. So, the appointment was set for 2:30 that afternoon. Jeremy and I talked twenty minutes or so and then he took me out to the kitchen showroom and asked me to sell him every product they had. I honestly don’t think he believed that I had as much experience as I did. At any rate he said he would call me the next day. I thought, “Sure you will.” Several years before I had been told that by another Home Depot and never heard a word. But, he called me the next day and said I was hired.

My first official day was July 17, 2013. I anticipated a year or so at The Home Depot. But seven years later and I’m still there.

In the meantime, Mom passed away the last week of September 2014. After all was settled and her home sold, I was the recipient of a third of her remaining estate. On my way home from Utah after having emptied her home of seventy-five years of memorabilia, treasures and personal things of no value to anyone but family, I realized that something I had thought would never be possible, would be.

I had been living and working as Georgia for more than seven years even though the name change hadn’t been legally official until January 5, 2009. At the court hearing for the name change, when it was my turn to stand before the judge, he looked over the papers, and then looking at me said, “I think this is very appropriate. Petition granted.”

I had been on hormone therapy for almost as long and had become used to the idea that whatever was under my skirt wasn’t nearly as important as what was in my heart and head. So, with the realization that a complete transition was now possible, but also having witnessed the tragic result of hasty decisions in regard to Gender Reassignment Surgery I decided to take my time and be sure it was the right thing for me to do. So I waited and I considered all the implications of what I was contemplating.

The first person to learn of what I was considering was Christine. The first Thanksgiving after we met, I had spent with her and family and friends. After all the hoopla was over and everyone had departed and we were alone I had asked her if it would make any difference to her, regarding our relationship if I ever did take that step. Her reply was, “Of course not and she would go with me wherever I needed to go and hold my hand as long as necessary.”

I called her sometime in the middle of December and asked her if the promise was still good. She said, “Of course.” I told her I hadn’t made a firm decision but was thinking about it.

I waited until sometime in February to contact Dr. Marcy Bowers. Over time I had always known that if I ever took that step, she was the only surgeon I would consider. That was because she, herself was a transsexual and had taken over the practice of Dr. Stanley Bieber in Trinidad Colorado.

My first appointment with her was on March 30th, 2015. I still wasn’t sure that I wanted to go ahead and planned on waiting another couple of months before I made a final decision.

Naturally I gave her a copy of “Dear Mom and Dad” when she entered the examination room and after introductions she asked me if I had any questions for her and I said,

“Am I too old?”

“Why do you think you are too old?”

“I’m seventy years old.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m seventy years old.”

“When I first saw you, I assumed I was dealing with someone in their mid-fifties.”

I could have kissed her right then and there.

But to answer my question, she said that I wasn’t too old. She had performed the surgery on people in their eighties.

As the interview was winding down, she said that her good fortune was my misfortune because she was booked out for two and a half years. My heart sank. Then she added, “But for you, I will get you in within nine months if I have to work an extra day of the week.”

Before I left the office, I filled out the necessary paperwork and left a deposit.

About two weeks later I got a call from her practice manager, Robin. She was calling to verify my insurance information that Aetna was my primary through my employer and that Medicare was secondary. I told her yes but that I didn’t want Home Depot hassled about coverage; I had the money.

Robin said she didn’t know what I had heard but that they didn’t hassle the insurance company. All they did was send a letter asking if it was a covered procedure. I said that if that was all they did then fine, but the answer would be “no”. Then I went on with my life.

The last week in June, I was preparing to go on vacation in Monument Valley and Durango when I received a letter from Aetna. There’s my denial of coverage letter I thought. I opened it up and started reading. In the middle of the page was the following:

“Gender Reassignment Surgery: Covered procedure.

What? No! That can’t be right. I folded it up and put it back in the envelope. I waited a few minutes and took the letter out again and re-read it. Yup! That’s what it said. “Gender Reassignment Surgery: Covered Procedure”

I called Robin the next morning and told her about the letter and asked if she had been notified. She said no, but they usually didn’t hear until a week or so after the patient did. So, I went on vacation and returned to work on a Thursday in mid-July. The next day, Friday, Robins office was closed at noon, so I e-mailed her and asked if she had received confirmation of coverage.

Monday morning, about 10:00 my phone rang. It was Robin. She said yes, they had received a confirmation from Aetna and that all I owed was $4,000. Then she said,

“So, how about September 2nd?

“For what?”

“Your surgery.”

I was speechless. I couldn’t breathe. Finally, Robin said,

“Are you there?”

“Uh Yeah.”

“Do you want that date?”

It took a few seconds for it to sink in; that the final decision moment had arrived. I finally said, “Yes, I do.”

“Do you want Dr. Beck to do the breast implants at the same time?”

“If it’s going to happen that soon, yes I do.”

“Then the date is September 1st.”

It had been just five months since Dr. Bowers had said she would get me in in nine months if she had to work an extra day of the week. I called Christine and told her I was making plane reservations for August 31st.

The only other thing I’m going to add is this; I had not been anesthetized since I had my tonsils out when I was 5 years old. I had no idea what to expect. The anesthetist came in to pre-op and said he was going to give me something to relax me, then something to put me to sleep and then would use general anesthesia for the surgery which all together would last six to seven hours.

The next thing, I’m awake and wondering when are they going to get started? Then,

“Oh crap, it’s all done!”

Then, what I knew was possible but didn’t think would happen to me, happened.

“Oh my God, what have I done. I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

But there was no turning back now. I had crossed the Rubicon. I immediately went to work on my own emotions and within two hours I was okay and have never looked back since. It was the right thing for me … Georgia.

George? He’s still there … in my subconscious now just as I was in his for sixty plus years. And he gets in his two bits worth from time to time just like I did to him.

It was not quite a year later that the love of my life, Georgia’s life, entered my life and has made me happy beyond belief. The Blue Magnet makes every day memorable and generally fills it with laughter.

If you are new to my blog, you can read about her and our relationship in posts of February 21st, 2017 and again September 3, 2018.

And the last thing of importance, though tragic, has been the untimely death of my pastor, brother and friend, T.C. “Jabowa” Whitehead. A blog entry on June 2 of this year is a tribute to him. His importance in my life is one of the very last things I wrote about in “Dear Mom and Dad.”

Well, Mom and Dad, that’s pretty much all that’s happened in the last 8 years and not that I don’t look forward to seeing you, I’m just not ready to call it quits down here. I still have books to write and I haven’t had near enough time with The Blue Magnet yet.

Love,

Georgia

P.P.S. And oh yeah … I’ve been ordained an Elder in my church and have actually delivered 3 sermons in the last 2 months, not to mention a lot of introductory messages over the last 4 or 5 years. You can catch them on my Facebook page when you have time.

Frustration is turning to Anger

My frustration is turning to anger. Maybe the final straw was seeing a mob; that’s the only word for it; pulling down a statue of Francis Scott Key in San Francisco. So what if he was a slave owner. If what I recall of my education is correct; and I’m pretty damn sure it’s because the NEA hadn’t corrupted the system yet; most of the signers of the declaration of independence were slave owners. My guess is that there wasn’t a single one of those fools involved in the destruction of that statue that’s had any seriously accurate education in our history.

It’s highly unlikely that any of the people who did own slaves were the ones to go to Africa and kidnap the people they “owned”. The slave traffickers in many cases weren’t even the ones to kidnap the people they trafficked in. In most cases the unfortunate people to be sold into slavery were captured and sold by other black tribesmen or Arab Muslim slavers.

But all that knowledge is secondary to the root cause of all the turmoil in our country. That root cause is total and complete lack of basic education and sense of responsibility for one’s own actions. Parents are turning the education and upbringing of their children over to the state. And the cities and states that are the most affected with the problem are those run by liberal politicians like Bill DeBlasio of New York City.

I know that conservative news and commentary outlets see this, but why don’t people on the left at least give lip service to the issue? Can it be possible that they really don’t want to see it because it’s such a glaring example of what liberal progressivism does to the soul of the communities it has taken root in? I tend to think that is the case.

Everything Marxism and Maoism teach is on full display with each and every march and riot that’s occurring on a daily basis. Has our education system become so badly directed that the average person is totally convinced that they owe nothing to the society they live in and that the government is there to provide them with not only the necessities of life but all the goodies that come from a free enterprise form of economy?

So yes, I am angry that people I know, people I care about and people I love are so totally ingrained with an attitude of hatred toward everything that has made this country the one place on the face of the earth where everyone wants to live.

I’m angry that everything about this country that I love and hold dear has become a target of hatred and a form of reverse prejudice.

I’m angry that the press in general, the liberal politicians, the entrenched bureaucracy in Washington, the public education system have all been co-opted by the notion that only a relatively few elites have the vision and correct idea of what is right and what is wrong.

I’m angry that those same people who have made common sense a thing to be laughed at and belittled, are the ones making decisions that affect my life and the pursuit of happiness embodied in our declaration of independence.

And I’m angry that those people who are supposed to be the defenders of free speech; the educators, the liberal politicians and most of all the press, think that I am ignorant because I am a Christian, a politically conservative Christian, a politically conservative Christian trans-sexual; that since I’m all these things, I can’t have an opinion worth voicing.

I could go on indefinitely about what started out as frustration and has now become anger and how that anger makes me want to lash out, but I don’t believe that’s productive, so I won’t.

If you’ve read this far, I think you get my point. I’m angry.

Break’s over … Back to work

It’s been a long time since I posted anything here. The reasons are multiple … brain freeze, work, lack of inspiration; you get the idea. I have always been of a mind that if I don’t have anything relatively intelligent to say it’s better to not say anything at all. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but nevertheless it’s been my line of thinking.

The events that have taken place in my personal world and the world in general have evoked plenty of thoughts in the interim but none that I felt were worth sharing … until now.

The fact that I exist in a category of humankind that is, in many cases shunned at best, abhorred at worst or completely misunderstood, results in a peculiar kind of attitude about the things that should and should not concern me. For instance, there is a part of me that says I should concern myself only with issues involving gender identity, since that has been such a huge issue in my personal journey.

There is a second part of me that says I should concern myself only with the expression of my Christian faith and sharing how that has shaped and forged my day to day life. That part of me says that sharing my faith with the gender and sexual orientation community that I now find myself in should be my total focus; my mission, as if I was venturing into the jungle to devote my life to saving the souls of the lost.

A third part of me is extremely political. And that part has a tendency to generate some rather unpleasant reactions from the gender community, where it is generally assumed by the vocal majority that I should be worshiping at the altar of political correctness and liberal progressivism. That rankles me to the core.

The last part begs to just be left alone to live a relatively pressure free life, a relatively ordinary life of a kitchen designer at The Home Depot. Left alone to put in my 8 hours and come home, check my mostly junk e-mail, eat dinner and either putter around the house and yard or sit down and watch another rerun or two of Gray’s Anatomy. And that generates visions of coming face to face with God and hearing Him ask me what I have to show for the few talents He gave me.

I’ve been there, done that in each of the stated options. So, with each of those parts of me, each of the options stated, what future am I going to pursue?

All of the above.

I have finally realized that each of these parts is an integral part of who God created me to be. If my the experiences of my life are to be of value, if they are meant to be shared with a world that might not otherwise pay one lick of attention to what I have to say then maybe the reason God created me the way He did and led me through the myriad of experiences He has, to result in the package that is Georgia Lee McGowen, then I must integrate them all into who I am and have become.

The person I am and have become is a unique human being with a message. All of my beliefs and convictions stem from a life that, to say the least, has had more twists and turns, more false starts than most. I have occasionally thought of it in terms the method used by the teacher in The Karate Kid. Each of the processes, senseless as they seemed at the time were eventually revealed to be a learning exercise. Each of the apparent failures have led to a new experience. And the one thing I have learned from each was that I gave up too soon. I always realized later that my blueprint for a success had been correct. I just didn’t follow through. I may not have been intended to follow through and that was the lesson intended to be learned for the really important reason for my life as it is.

I am an unusual combination of male and female expression that has chosen to live my life in a surgically altered body and believes that I am exactly how God designed me to be. That fact means the world considers me a transsexual. So be it.

I am a dual gendered Christian transsexual who believes that God loves me this way and is going to use me in a way that he couldn’t use me otherwise.

I am a politically conservative Christian transsexual. And that alone makes me extremely unique. What better way to attract attention than that? Just makes perfect since.

So, in the future you can expect me to express opinions and beliefs that reflect all those parts. If any one or more of those offend you, for that I apologize in advance. Just don’t expect anything resembling political correctness.

Coincidence? I don’t think so!

Coincidences are for some people a progression of events that just happen on their own. No rhyme or reason for the way events unfold is evidence that what happens is just coincidence. I for one just don’t buy that explanation … not for a minute. That being said, neither do I always automatically assume that every single event in my life is preordained. And that is the way some choose to explain coincidence. There are those of us who happen to believe that there is something bigger and more deliberate at work.

If I chose to absolutely bore you to death, I could take you step-by-step through events that have been occurring in my personal life since puberty. Instead I’m going relate some facts about my life that, while seemingly insignificant, together or separately, have brought me to a recent point that demands consideration of the possibility of the existence of a source of intelligence bigger than anything imaginable by human logic. I choose to call that source God. And, I further choose to firmly believe in my own free will to accept or reject His chosen path for me.

For the sake of brevity, I will pick up the sequence that has unfolded in my life at a point marked by the date December 15th, 2006. On that date I was told that my services were no longer wanted at a job that was paying me rather well. As I related in Dear Mom and Dad, … the job I migrated to landed me a booth at the 2007 Phoenix Pride Festival and that led me to my favorite haunt, The Cash Inn on McDowell in Phoenix the Saturday night of the festival.

The place was packed, but as “luck”(?) would have it there was an empty stool next to some friends who invited me to join them. A few minutes after settling myself on the stool I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned, expecting to see a familiar face. Instead what I found myself looking at was the face of a person I have lovingly come to refer to as “The Green-eyed Blonde” aka one Christine Curtin of Burbank CA. Coincidence? You judge for yourself.

Over time Christine has become the dearest and closest friend I have, except for “The Blue Magnet” of course. As time and the relationship developed, albeit long distance, she became my biggest fan and supporter. One day she called to ask me if I would be interested in speaking at a college in Yucaipa, CA. That in turn, led to an introduction to a friend she had known years before in school and had recently re-connected with. I have been speaking at Crafton Hills College nearly every year since and in that time have gotten to know both Professor Jimmy Urbanovich and, his wife Rene.

I have generally been in the habit of going out a few days early each time to spend time with Christine before the presentation and then heading out afterwards for home. This last time Professor Jimmy invited The Blue Magnet and I to spend the night prior to my presentation with him and Rene at their second home near the college. Rene was the most gracious hostess imaginable and we spent a wonderful evening with them. Sometime in the course of the evening or the next morning Rene suggested having their son Jordan produce a promotional video for me to use in promoting myself as a guest speaker and author.

When we were back home, I sent Rene a text thanking her for her generous hospitality and encouragement. What ensued was a 5-month effort at bringing to fruition what Rene had instigated and I am forever in her debt for following through and urging me on.

Is all this simply a series of uncanny coincidences? I think not. One might be tempted to believe that because of the lapse of time from meeting Christine to the final version of the video that it must be simply coincidence, but my knowledge of history and the bible leads me to realize that God seldom gets in a hurry. As I said in the beginning of this piece, this is just an example of what I believe is the result of a wholehearted surrender of my will to His and He has rewarded me handsomely over the years.

Oh, so you want to see the finished product? The link to the video is below.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=GhWn6GrbiYM

Scaredy Cat

I have a confession to make … I’m a scaredy cat. Yep! That’s what I am. To revert to another term I haven’t used in years … What am I ascared of? I’m not sure. I just know that I’m not terribly brave or courageous; not like soldiers or policemen or firemen; not like atheists or agnostics. It’s all about facing death.

It’s always seemed to me that a person such as a policeman or fireman and more particularly a soldier has faced, if not death, at least the prospect of their own death at least once in the course of performing their duties. They have more than likely come to terms with the prospect of life coming to an end. There is a saying that there are no atheists in foxholes and I imagine that’s because when one finds one’s self in a foxhole one is face to face with the prospect of their end being there in that foxhole.

I don’t remember ever not believing that God exists. I always felt that He did. However, for most of my life I just never paid a bit of attention to what his existence really meant to me.

Atheists and agnostics simply baffle me. When I look at the complexity of life; the way every single solitary thing, in not just this world but in all of creation, is assembled and ordered, it is just not possible for me to consider for even a moment that it’s all random accident the way atheists do. I find it equally impossible to ascribe to the notion that “the universe”, an impartial and emotionally devoid entity created itself without the benefit of intelligent thought.

Correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t it just a wee bit incongruous to think that morality is a natural happenstance which mankind has, over centuries come to accept as the correct way to live. Are “right” and “wrong” simply the unintended and accidental result of the passing of time. If that is the case, then it seems to me that it’s basically because the “weak” in society drummed up the notion, and began a campaign of acceptance among the compassionate strong, as a sort of shield against the not so compassionate among the “strong”.

But to be more practical about the issue, I find it further mind boggling to imagine that anyone with even a modicum of scientific knowledge can think that it’s all accidental. It’s been years since I studied biology and chemistry and even though there have been advancements in our human understanding of the “way things work” the basics remain intact. Everything, every single solitary minute particle of our world, our solar system, our universe, is ordered and positioned to serve a purpose of some sort. Again, I ask, accident?

And that brings me back to my confession. I realize that we all have to face the fact that there is an expiration date to our earthly existence. Firemen face that reality in doing their job. Policemen, in this current time of deadly attacks on them, certainly do and soldiers, in particular those who stare the enemy in the face at any given moment; those people have to deal with death as a matter of course. How they do it and continue with their jobs is a source of constant amazement for me. There is an old phrase that says, “there are no atheists in foxholes.” Seems logical to me though I have never been in one of those “foxholes”

I’ve never had the opportunity to discuss the issue with an atheist, so I can’t say what, if ever they find themselves in a “foxhole”, they would do. I think I would like to know how they mentally and emotionally address the final curtain.

For myself, I find enormous comfort in my belief that God does indeed exist; that He designed me and everything else in existence with care and precision meant to work together if we follow the instruction manual. I find further comfort in the fact that there are numerable instances in my personal life which I can point to that can only be explained in light of His existence and personal involvement in my life. I don’t care if it’s something as simple as searching for a misplaced item and saying aloud, “Where in the Sam Hill is my shoe?” and suddenly have it appear in my line of sight. It happens way too often to be coincidence. I am one person who has experienced God’s personal involvement in the mundane as well as the special occurrences of my life.

So how do I resolve the issue of being a scaredy cat? That’s really quite simple. I’m only scared when I don’t remember that I don’t need to be scared. Besides, as I have said to my best friend, Christine who is an avowed atheist, “If you’re right and I’m wrong I have not lost anything because there was nothing to lose in the first place. But, if I’m right and you’re wrong you will have lost everything.?