On Watching Pots Boil

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ Leave a comment

My dear friend Kitty thinks I need more protein in my diet, so I just finished boiling two eggs for my breakfast in the morning. I actually stood by the stove and watched the pot. I can report that, indeed, a watched pot does boil. And, upon further reflection, it occurred to me that, contrary to popular opinion, only watched pots boil.

For starters, not watching the pot is like not being in the forrest when the tree falls. It makes little difference whether a sound is made or not; you aren’t there to hear it. If you aren’t watching the pot, you don’t know if it’s boiling or not. This can have serious, flammable consequences. So, go ahead, watch the pot. Science proves that, given enough heat, the water will boil. Your not viewing is superfluous.

I understand that I may be missing the point, but maybe another point needs to be made. It’s great to not watch the pot, to not worry so much, to let things take their course, but this carefree attitude, this absent-mindedness probably only leads to good yoga sessions. In the real world, being mindful about who you are, what you are doing, and where you are going are pretty darn important.

Consider how many people you’ve met that, without plan or purpose, have wandered into success, happiness, and contentment. They’ve achieved great things without paying attention, without being mindful, without trying. I’m betting that number rhymes with “hero.”

We are not mythological gods with the powers to completely shape the world around us, but to an impressive extent we can shape our lives, no matter the circumstances that greet us upon our arrival. We can have goals. We can set standards for ourselves. We can dream about the type of person we want to be. And, then, critically, we can set out to pursue those dreams and goals. I don’t mean only the pursuit of career or financial goals. I mean the goals of being a better sibling. Being a more supportive friend. Being a kinder neighbor. Not being held hostage to our fears and failures. Not being frozen by pain.

By and large, the things we value in life do not simply happen. If you take the lottery approach to life, waiting on the motherlode of good fortune to smile down upon you, you will experience the same odds of those that actually play the lottery. Rather, wanting something, be it a hard boiled egg, success in your job, a better relationship, is only the first step. You can’t want something and then wait for the wish to come true. You have to boil  the water, and then watch the pot boil. It’s not hard. It’s not difficult. You just have to want it enough, because the water will boil. We know it will boil.

On Our Plans and Plots Suspended

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ 1 Comment

If only the sound of your name,
the dream of your face,
was enough to bring forward,
in this time and place.

A sweet wish occupies and holds,
our plans and plots suspended,
for this bounty to arrive,
our world upended.

The big clocks tick and tock,
the calendar pages flip,
we busy our minds away,
stealing our hearts on a trip.

I command, invoke, and direct,
but your love is in no rush,
for such a perfect thing is free
and unmoved by pull or push.

But I hope you hear my quiet plea,
for your place is set,
an anticipation growing stronger,
a mighty emotional debt.

You are here in so many ways,
worries and laughter and cheer.
Imagined moments and triumphs,
drawing us all near.

I know you may never come,
a fate to be missed, to be far,
And we will accept the judgement,
if only you be a wish on a star.

But if ever a love is true,
if the test is joy, pure and clear,
then we have faith we will pass,
when we meet my dear.

These hearts will continue to prepare,
to shelter you in warmth and peace,
to hold you safe from all darkness
in a love that does not cease.

If only the sound of your name,
the dream of your beautiful face,
was enough to bring you gently forward,
in this time and place.

On a Good Tailor

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ Leave a comment

I recently purchased two new suits from my favorite purveyor of fine men’s clothing, Brooks Brothers. When I met with the tailor, I brought along a suit I purchased two years ago that was now too large in the jacket and slacks, and, after the alterations for the new suits had been measured, I asked the tailor to take a look at my old suit. I put it on, and, after carefully inspecting it and taking a few measurements, a grim look washed over his face. He explained that numerous parts of the suit would need to be taken in, and, while he could make the shoulders, neck, back, sides, and chest of the jacket “fit” me, the resulting coat would be of Frankenstein proportions and grace.

The tailor was a small, earnest, professional man. English was not his first language, and it was with great respect and humility that he explained the problem with my old suit. He presented his inability to tailor the suit to me as his personal failing, but, as I considered our interaction over the weekend, I decided the failing had been mine. I brought a beautiful, oversized suit to the tailor, expecting that he could change the size but not the proportions or the beauty. I was asking for magic.

After I left Brooks Brothers, hubby and I went mattress shopping. We visited two mattress stores and awkwardly laid on mattress after mattress, attempting to determine in the span of fifteen seconds or so if this was the right product on which to sleep for the next decade. Soft, firm, plush, pillow top, inner spring, foam, hybrids, quilted, hand-stitched, plush, adjustable — the list goes ever on. There was no rhyme or reason to the mattress names, prices, or features. Salesmen were uttering words I was fairly certain did not exist and making me fear that a bad decision would lead to, at minimum, ten years of poor sleep, a wrecked career, and a stunted lifespan. As I stared up at the fluorescent lighting while laying on the Deluxe UltraMax Freedom Sleep System VII, a part of me wept for my Brooks Brothers tailor. I wanted someone to tell me that, sure, any of these mattresses could be made to work, any would “fit” me, but here’s the right choice.

A tailor knows how to sew a button, cut a coat, and fix a cuff, but a good tailor keeps an eye on the proportion of the suit, the symmetry of the lines of the garment, how it hangs on the body. It’s not just about fit. And the best tailors can help you understand all of that, even if English isn’t their first language. This same quality can be seen in good teachers, good leaders, even good friends. They can fix a problem, yes, but, more importantly, they see the big picture. They aren’t magicians, but they don’t confuse you with nonsense or obfuscation. They have a point of view, not a bottom line, and they make you better for that.

I was disappointed to lose the suit, so to speak, but I reconciled myself with the thought that I could store the suit in my closet, silently and patiently awaiting the (inevitable) return of my ice cream cravings and corresponding “blossoming.” And, hopefully, if I do expand, my new mattress will be just as comfortable.

On a Poem For Scooter

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ Leave a comment

Last year, before my friend Scooter became a dad, I sent him this poem. It tickles me, and I want to memorialize it on the blog. I tease him mercilessly, but he’s a wonderful dad and a great friend. For Scooter:

Confused little golden boy,
confused golden man.
In sauces he liked soy,
his body never knew a tan.

Shy with his brilliant light,
like a girl, some say, he fights.
But all know the truth lad,
he’s about to become a dad.

A great adventure, he will cross.
Finding himself, maybe.
All the years and tears,
ending in a baby.

On The Talk: An Axton Village Story

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ Leave a comment

“Come on in, Billy. Sit down on the couch next to him, Sally. There you go. Comfortable? Yes? Ok. Good. Well. Mom and I wanted to take some time this afternoon to have a talk with you.”

“Is this another dorky family meeting?”

“Well, yes and no, Billy, and those meetings aren’t dorky, thank you very much young man. Occasionally Team Blevins has to come together.”

Sally rolled her eyes.

“Now Sally, that’s not respectful of your mother or me.”

Sally stared ahead at her parents, smacking her gum, wishing she was back up in her room, texting her friends or maybe thinking about dreamy Michael Kowolsky from 5th period math class. She had even written Sally Kowolsky several times in her math notebook. In various wedding invitation scripts, of course.

“Now, your mother and I think that it’s time, as a family, that we have a talk about the two of you.”

“What did we do? I haven’t done anything! Sally’s the disrespectful one…”

“Now, Billy, stop right there,” Mindy Blevins interjected. “No one’s in trouble.”

Billy Blevins slid down into the couch, silently thankful that his failing science grade and recently lost bike were not yet public knowledge.

“Kids,” Mike Blevins began cautiously, “you’re both starting junior high, getting older, and, well, your mom and I know that things are changing.”

Billy and Sally exchanged puzzled glances. Mindy Blevins dug her well manicured fingernails subtly into her thigh, resisting the urge to blush.

“Ahem, well, yes,” Mike continued, “well, I’m sure you’ve both noticed these changes.”

“Are we moving? Seriously, are we moving?” Sally Blevins protested. “Not again!” She slapped her 11 year old hands down on her acid washed skinny jeans in protest. “I just made a new friend. Monica’s awesome. Why do we have to move?” Sally thought to herself, “away from Michael Kowolsky…”

“Young lady,” Mike softly barked, “that’s enough. No one is moving.”

“Moving would be cool,” chimed Billy. Billy saw an opening to escape his current report card, and he went for it.

“Billy, please,” Mindy exclaimed. “Your father and I want you both to be quiet and listen. Is that so hard? Thank you. You were saying, hon'”

Mike Blevins wiped his brow and sat up straight. “Yes, well, your mother and I know that you’re both going through some changes. Umm, some changes in your bodies.”

Billy Blevins muttered “Gross” under his breath softly.

“And maybe you’ve noticed your friends at school changing.”

Sally Blevins thought about dreamy Michael Kowolsky.

“Getting taller. Voices changing. Maybe some whiskers on chins and legs. And, ummm,” Mike Blevins hesitated, “Honey you wanted to take it from there?”

Mindy Blevins, looking a little perturbed at the fact that her husband hadn’t even got the horse out of the stall, much less the stable, picked up the mantle. “Well, kids, we just wanted you to know that this is all very normal. Nothing to be ashamed about. A lot of kids can have a tough time during this period, and we just wanted both of you to know that we are here for both of you. We can talk anytime. We want Team Blevins to have open lines of communication.”

“Okay. Can I go upstairs now?”

“No, Sally, you can’t. What your mother and I are trying to say is that we want to be here for you. This is important.”

“And your father and I want you both to know that, as these things change, you may get some unusual feelings.”

“Feelings?” Billy inquired. “Am I gonna be sad?”

“Well, no,” Mike Blevins responded, silently wanting to say that his son might actually feel great, but he restrained himself. “No, nothing like that.”

“That’s right. it’s just that, around this time, as some kids begin to mature, well, your father and I want you two to know that some kids start to experiment.”

“In science, we get to experiment on a frog.”

“Thank you, Billy. Your mother is talking about something different.”

“Yes, and this experimenting is natural too, but, in this family, in Team Blevins, we believe that that’s the sort of thing you do only once you’re married.”

“Huh?” Billy asked, obviously lost without a clue. Sally continued to stare ahead, expressionless.

“What your mother is saying is that, when a man and a woman feel special towards each other, and of course only once they’re married, that, umm, sometimes they have a special hug.”

“A hug?” Billy earnestly inquired. Sally’s look transitioned from expressionless to vacant.

“Yes, that’s it, a special hug,” Mindy Blevins added, sensing the opportunity to swaddle her embarrassment in an innocuous euphemism. “A special, magical hug.”

Mike Blevins cringed, sensing the train derailing. “And,”

“And, that special, magical hug is for mommies and daddies only,” Mindy quickly continued, her courage draining by the second. “We know you two know the difference between a good touch and a bad touch, and we want you both to remember that too.”

Mike Blevins startled, listening to his wife wrapping up the talk only minutes after it began.

“Just keep your hands to yourself. Does that make sense?” Mindy asked.

Mike Blevins stared at his wife, unsure where to go next, if anywhere at all.

“Yes. Okay,” Billy responded, still unsure of the point of the family meeting.

“Do either of you have any questions?” Mike added, unwilling to forge ahead if his wife had cold feet. “You can ask your mother or I anything. We want you to always feel free to talk to us. We’re here for you.”

“No, I’m good,” Billy said.

“Me too,” Sally added. “May we be excused?”

Mike and Mindy Blevins looked at each other, silently admitting with their eyes that all had not gone to plan, but also admitting that the will and energy to dive deeper had vanished.

“Sure, I’m glad we had this chat. Your father and I love you both very much. We want you to be safe. We want the best for you, because you deserve the best!” Mindy felt like ending on an inspirational note would smooth over the rough spots of the talk.

“Okay” was the simultaneous response of Billy and Sally as they bounded out of the living room and up the stairs to their respective rooms.

Billy ran into his room, slammed shut the door, jumped on his bed, and pulled out his tub of green army men. It was time for a great battle, and, within a few minutes, the family meeting was lost to him forever.

Sally walked into her room and closed the door quietly. She sat down on her pink bean bag and pulled out her phone. She pulled up her new BFF Monica’s information and started a text.

Sally: OMG, you will never believe what my stupid ‘rents just did!!!

Monica: Srsly?! What?

Sally: Like, we had this stupid family meeting. So stupid. Like, they were SUPER nervous.

Monica: About what?

Sally: Well, when they started, so stupid, I thought they were going to talk to me and my brother about sex, but they never did. Turns out, there’s a special hug men and women can do? Srsly! Did you know that?

Monica: OMG!OMG!OMG!

Sally: Think Michael Kowolsky knows how to do this special hug?

Monica: Bet he does.

Sally: Think he’d show me?

On an Audience of Sandwiches

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ Leave a comment

I frequent a sandwich shop near my office several times per week. As you enter the shop, an artisanal chalk board announces in stylish script any specials and, more importantly, the name of the lunchtime entertainer. Be it Bob or Matt or Sarah, a grizzled musician will be huddled in the corner, strumming a guitar, playing a harmonica, and covering an acoustic classic. Often, the performance is quite good. Eric Clapton isn’t looking over his shoulder, but, nonetheless, these folks have talent.

No one listens.

Today, as I waited for my ham and cheddar special, I looked around the shop and listened to the songs. I estimate there were 30 people enjoying lunch. Many were conversing with coworkers, some were playing on their phones, and others were stuffing their faces. No one was looking at the musician, and, if they were listening to the performance, it was, at most, in a white noise sort of way. The few folks that did look his way only did so because he was parked right next to the soda fountain. So, his performance was acknowledged, but only as customers tended to their Sprite Zeroes. After that, to say he faded into the background is to insult backgrounds.

The utter disregard of the clientele for the performer was not the most attention catching aspect of the moment, though. Rather, it was the musician’s gusto for the performance. Oblivious to everyone else’s obliviousness, today’s musician belted out hit tune after hit tune. Passionate, fiery, soft, tender, this guy’s voice had it all. More importantly, he just didn’t care. He was there to perform, and I was quite certain that the performance would not have changed had there been 3, 30, or 300 customers in the shop. I was in awe.

If your character is what you do when no one is looking, this guy had a ton of character. Who knows, maybe he returns home in the evenings in a deep depression about the state of his musical career, but you’d never know it from his performance. It struck me as I watched him that that type of abandon, that kind of commitment to the undertaking should be the goal of everyone, personally and professionally. When the lights are on and the stakes are high, lots of people try their best, but, when nothing’s on the line, few people extend themselves. You know, it seems to me that “your best” isn’t often found on the day of the big game, at the interview for your dream job, or in an important moment in a relationship. Instead, our “best” is more accurately what we do on a cloudy, random, forgettable Wednesday. That’s who you really are.

I finished my lunch, refilled my drink, and slipped a few bucks in the musician’s tip jar. I gave him the universal “good job” head nod, and received one in return. I liked the singing, but what he didn’t know was that the tip was for reminding me of a great life lesson. Whether you’re performing for a million people or an audience of sandwiches, give it your best.

On Climbing the Ladder

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ 1 Comment

When I was in college and law school, I was under the impression that those that get ahead do so, primarily, due to intelligence, skill, hard work, and dedication. And, indeed, those factors play significant roles in success in any field. The surprise of my working career has been, however, how many other factors lead to success and, conversely, how many can lead to failure.

The first is simply one’s appearance. If you don’t look the part, you don’t get the part. One of the most dangerous workplace rules is the casual dress code. Sure, you can take full advantage of that, but, in most places, you don’t climb the ladder in shorts and sandals. Visual cues matter.

Second, I’m amazed by how important simply showing up is. Being dependable and predictable is key. I previously worked with an extremely smart, productive coworker, but his frequent, unpredictable work absences just stalled, even derailed, his career. You just gotta show up. All the time. Ready to contribute. It’s not rocket science.

Next, a positive, happy attitude. Fake it, if you have to. No one wants to be around Negative Nancy, and, when it comes time to parcel out important tasks and assignments, people gravitate to those with a “can do” spirit. And, those that succeed at those important tasks and assignments get future opportunities. Again, this is basic stuff.

Related to attitude is the fact that gossips, whiners, emotional blackholes, and conspiracy theorists never get ahead. These odd ducks seek each other out and spend the rest of their careers huddled in corners, sharing the information they just know explains the latest office development. They are always wrong and a drag on office morale, efficiency, and productivity. A major key to success is steering far, far away from these folks. People note your company, and there is such a thing as guilt by association, as unfair as it may be.

Finally, doing more than the minimum required will unlock door after door. Most people want clear directions and work to satisfy expectations. Successful folks do more. They exceed requirements, they ask for additional work and responsibility, they bring ideas to the table, they volunteer to contribute in unique and positive ways at the office. A major mistake many people make is believing that they will be rewarded for meeting expectations. Sure, you’ll get a “good job,” but the key is to exceed expectations. To give your employer more than he or she expected. It’s not a mystery, but it is a test of your desire and dedication.

You can have all the talent, intelligence, or skill in the world, but still find your career stagnating. No one is going to hunt you down to reward you. Success doesn’t come knocking. You have to go out and earn it, and, luckily, the keys to success aren’t a great mystery.

On Falling for Fall

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ 1 Comment

As seasons go, fall gets a bum rap. Winter shines with the holidays, while summer holds the promise of vacations, sunshine, shorts, and warmth. Spring garners its fans by not being winter, as well as promising folks some flowers if they’ll wait out some showers. That leaves us with fall — poor, blustery fall. Drab. The creep of cold.

I’m here to convince you otherwise.

Fall is my favorite season. I love the nip in the air, the falling, colorful leaves, the slowing down to the summer madness. While the leaves and grass may be dying, fall is actually pregnant with possibility. New school year, new football and basketball seasons, and even a new television season usher in with autumn.

Sure, we lose some daylight, but the next time you’re lamenting the loss of light, try this. Come home after work, take a hot shower or bath, change into some comfortable pajamas, make some hot chocolate, sit in a comfortable chair, and, then, do nothing. Seriously, don’t do anything. I’m telling you, no amount of sunshine can beat house shoes, hot chocolate, quiet, and stillness. Throw in a good book, and you’re set for the rest of the evening. Heck, the rest of the week!

Fall is about slowing down, comfort food, and traditions. You can enjoy a warm jacket, having an excuse to use the word “brisk,” and the beginnings of a new school year, whether you’re young or just young at heart. You can also anticipate the start of a run of some awesome holidays. Christmas is laden with pressure, but Halloween is pure fun. Then, if you can’t enjoy Thanksgiving, well, the problem’s with you, not the season. Pass the stuffing, please!

But that’s not all! With fall, you can enjoy the simple pleasure of not being hot and sweaty all the time. Less bugs too! You’ll even get an extra hour of sleep one weekend in the fall, and when, really, do you ever get the extra sleep you so badly need and so richly deserve?

You can date Winter, with her glitzy baubles. You can have a long fling with Summer, with his sultry ways. And maybe you rob the cradle with Spring, with her youthful vitality. But Fall’s the one you marry. Comfortable. Kind. Peaceful. Steady. Even. Interesting, but not dangerous. You bring Fall home to mom and dad, and they approve. Fall’s the one.

So, go ahead. Fall for fall. I did, and I’ve never looked back.

On A Life Denied

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ Leave a comment

You carry your burden,
always with you now,
a great and sad loss,
head heavy bowed.

To make alright I would,
my only true want,
but this pain preceded me,
and continues to haunt.

We have this history and love,
but I’m not sure I know you.
I see me in you, you in me,
and he is in me too.

A distance caused by a loss,
a loss I cannot know.
I cannot bear, could not bear,
the death that is your foe.

I see your tired eyes and soul,
singing its silent sad song,
but I cannot ease your trial,
after these cruel decades long.

You must know there has been love,
and laughter and joy and peace.
Why have you not enjoyed them,
was your loss too deep to cease?

My pledge to you, my solemn word,
is that I will not recall the pain,
the twist of fate so tightly wrapped,
across your gentle heart heavily lain.

I will recall the strength, every day,
to carry on, to move on, to endure,
into unknown valleys and peaks,
knowing only to be unsure.

The life you wanted so denied,
but that love still remains,
three then four then five lights,
remnants all, and your gain.

I know the light is still there,
waiting for a reunion thus,
and I pray for you it happens,
if there is justice, it must.

You will dance and sing and smile again,
a broken heart finally mended,
for so much love surrounds you,
the arms you desire to embrace you, extended.

On Mitch and Cam

~ Maxwell Xavier ~ 1 Comment

On the evening of April 30, 1997, I sat on my dorm room couch with tears running down my cheeks. It may have been the only time in my life I’ve actually cried tears of joy. I had just watched Ellen DeGeneres’s character, Ellen, come out on her self-named television show. It was network television history, and, more than that, I knew it was a cultural moment that would affect my life for the better.

Pop culture moments like Ellen’s coming out were important for a variety of reasons, but for many like me, closeted or semi-closeted in small towns, it held out the promise of a better, more honest future. And that future has, thankfully, been (mostly) realized. Less than 20 years later, we have marriage equality nationwide, the right to serve our country in the military, and, in many (but not all) places, legal protections from discrimination. More importantly, the hearts and minds of our families, friends, and fellow citizens are changing for the better.

Despite the legal, social, and personal victories, gay couples still have few role models and rarely see their lives reflected in popular culture. Wonderfully, that’s changing too, spearheaded for the last six years by Modern Family’s Cameron Tucker and Mitchell Pritchett, played wonderfully by Eric Stonestreet and Jesse Tyler Ferguson.

Mitch and Cam hold down normal jobs (usually), struggle to raise a daughter, experience the awkwardness (and occasional homophobia) of family, and generally just try to be happy. In other words, they’re a normal gay couple. Most importantly, they aren’t a funny supporting character relegated to the perimeter of the “real” story, and they aren’t stereotypical queens…not that there’s anything wrong with that.

In its best moments, Modern Family has invited people to see the boring, hilarious, warm, frustrating, awful, wonderful normal-ness of a gay couple. And we needed that. I’ve never understood when people tell me they can’t “relate” to gay people, as I can never figure out why it’s hard to understand that I love someone…who just happens to be of the same sex. I have no problem relating to straight people, after all. Nevertheless, for many out there, they need an “in,” and Mitch and Cam have beautifully provided that. And, for that, I’m thankful.

A few years after I started watching the show, my husband and I attended a concert. As we sat in the church pew enjoying the a cappella performance, I looked around to notice many families with small children. I enjoyed watching them fidget and toss about, and my mind began to wander and wonder about having that in my life. I had always been resolute in proclaiming that children were not in my future, but, the next day, when my husband and I admitted to each other that we both were thinking about adoption during the concert, we took it as a sign. And, now, we wait for the third member of our great team to come along.

I often wonder whether watching Mitch and Cam on Modern Family contributed in some way to my desire to adopt. After all, it has not been lost on me or my friends that hubby and I resemble Mitch and Cam in more ways than one. In the end, I’ll never know, but it surely didn’t hurt to watch a positive (and hilarious) portrayal of a gay family. And, when our own family grows a little bigger, maybe, just maybe, I’ll experience those tears of joy again.

So, thanks Ellen and Mitch and Cam, and Ellen and Eric and Jesse. You’ve been funny, but, more importantly, you’ve been meaningful.