His once-clean-cut sandy hair had grown shaggy over his ears. But his winning smile still looked the same. He wore a light-weight jacket zipped up all the way. We exchanged hellos then embraced.
“Show them your thing!” His partner exclaimed after a few minutes of pleasantries. He didn’t appear to share her enthusiasm. Instead he blushed, backed away, and cowered.
“Come on, babe. Show’em your thing!” She encouraged. He giggled but seemed uncomfortable. Obviously, our curiosity was piqued.
“Yeah, babe, show us your thing!!” We joined in and volleyed friendly banter.
“I’m going to come find it,” I laughed. “I’m going to cry,” I teased. “Please, I want to see,” I pleaded.
Our hunger to uncover this thing he was withholding mounted. And he grew ruddy and cryptic. “You definitely don’t want to see it,” he tried.
Nevertheless, we persisted. And eventually, he relented.
He unzipped his jacket to disclose a brand-new holster cradling an empty pistol. Taken aback, I too relented. This definitely was not the thing I was expecting.
Why? I wondered then asked aloud.
He shared his excitement about the new purchase and said something about self-defense. He spoke about the threat of cougars on state trails. Then said something else about our open-carry state.
What the hell? I wondered but kept that to myself as he continued.
It certainly wasn’t lost on me that while the world was on edge over unarmed American men and women murdered while standing up for their 1st, 4th, and 8th amendment rights—this charming, blue-eyed, sandy-haired man was exercising his 2nd amendment right just because.
He traveled by car and ferry with ease, interacted with a cop on the way, and hugged my entire family with a gun strapped to his body.
~
Last month, a young coach sent an apology email to a community of parents and players for careless Facebook posts he wrote in the heat of the moment during the climax of nearby riots.
“Just shoot them,” he posted and punctuated with expletives. From the comfort of his living room, he exercised his 1st amendment right.
“I apologize…” he relented that Sunday afternoon. “This doesn’t reflect…” he continued, then went back to work Monday morning.
~
He followed these incredible tales with another about the complications that come with breaking traffic laws across state lines. Once he was held responsible. So he leveraged his position and his family’s resources to hire an attorney.
They had to pay a fine.
~
Seated beside my partner, best friend, lover, and lifetime companion, I was undone by Dave Chapelle’s 8:46. I sat speechless and sobbed into the quiet of the family room when it was over.
In the gravity of the aftermath, I turned and looked into the steady eyes I’ve looked into on most days for the last 25 years.
“We have so much to talk about,” I began.
- I talked about police training and greater accountability. In true form, he weighed both sides and explained how little I know about police training.
- He questioned if it would still have been considered racism if the cop had been Asian or black. I was incredulous that we’d strayed so far from the point.
- I affirmed everything I knew to be true from the piece we just watched. He was moved but also smelled hints of “bullshit.”
- He looked spent, clearly exhausted by our late-night conversation. I returned to tears over how much work we have left to do.
- I bristled as my thoughts turned to our kids. He wondered if I might be overreacting…
Although we tried, neither of us could find much common ground to stand on. I searched his eyes for the light of understanding but found just a flicker of empathy. With the lights and TV off, the family room looked dark.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just can’t feel the way you feel because I’ve never been through what you’ve been through.”
~
What a privilege.
