This week I took a couple of days off work. My sister called me one day last week to tell me that Grandparent’s / Special Friend Day at my nephew’s school was Wednesday, November 14. His teacher handed out the flyer to give to his mother and he gave it to her and said, "This is for Uncle Joey."

Last year he was in Kindergarten Prep and I attended as his Special Friend. This year he is in Kindergarten.

This is a fun day. It’s a chance for us to see the child’s classroom, their work, meet their friends and teachers and a chance for the child to show off a bit to those whom they love. It’s especially nice that the school added "special friend" to Grandparent’s Day because not all kids have grandparents living or able to attend; this gives these children the opportunity to have someone there for them. It’s sad, however, that even still some kids don’t have a visitor on this special day at school. I know that we all have to work and have busy lives, but it’s one day and it’s about that child. Imagine how awful a child must feel not to have a special visitor when so many others do; how alone he or she must feel, how unloved even though he or she isn’t – but the point is how that child feels.

So, as I was preparing to take that day off I realized that I was off on Monday for Veteran’s Day. I thought to myself, "Self," that’s what I call myself, "Self, you’re off on Monday and you’re going to take the morning off on Wednesday; why not just take Tuesday off as well?" So, that is what I decided to do. Then a co-worker laughed at me and said, "Why not take the whole day off Wednesday instead of coming in the afternoon? I KNOW you’ve got the days." She said she knew because I am always at work, I rarely take time off. As I considered this, I realized that I’d not taken any vacation since the end of July. OKAY! Monday, holiday; Tuesday, vacation; Wednesday, vacation!

How wonderful it was. My nephew showed me his writing book and math book. When I was in kindergarten, we didn’t learn such things; "back then" kindergarten wasn’t mandatory (my parents had to pay for it) and it was only half-day; "back then" kindergarten was more of getting a child eased into being away from Mommy and socializing with other children in preparation for first grade than it was actual school. Oh, how times have changed. LOL

What was even MORE strange was the fact that my nephew’s classroom is the SAME EXACT classroom in which I attended kindergarten. I walked in and was assaulted by memories. Let’s face it, schools always smell the same; there is a "school smell." My brother-in-law says it’s the urinal deodorizing cakes but it’s more than that. The classroom is different than it was when I was in kindergarten, just a few short years ago…LOL, but basically the same. I looked around and thought, "That is where the sandbox was." It was an odd experience, but one that was reassuring and comforting. I only attended kindergarten at the public school; afterward, I attended the Catholic school a few blocks away.

After visiting in the classroom, the students put on a performance for us singing and dancing Thanksgiving songs as only five and six year olds can do. Then off we went for an awards assembly for kindergarten through grade three. My nephew wore his ribbon for "perfect attendance" proudly. After that, he and I went to the "book fair." Now, last year I made the mistake of buying him the ONE book his mother didn’t want him to have, "Captain Underpants." I didn’t know she had "banned" it from his "wish-list" and he said he wanted it, so there you have it. Yes, I was in BIG TROUBLE, MISTER! LOL This time I tried to steer him away from any underpants books. We got three books; okay one of them was called "Gross Out." I knew my sister wouldn’t really care for it (in fact, I didn’t really care for it) but he wanted it and let’s face it, six-year-old boys will be six-year-old boys. LOL

I went back to work on Thursday. My cousin’s wife called me at work and asked what I was doing on Saturday. I always remember the date, November 17 being my cousin’s birthday. She said she’d asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. He said, "Let’s call Joe and go Karaoke." Imagine that, on his birthday he could have chosen to stay home and be waited upon, spend a romantic day and evening with his wife or just ignored it but he chose to watch me drink and (even worse) listen to me sing! Lol

How much do I love them? My cousin and I were really close when we were young boys, eight months apart in age. As we grew and became men we became very different people. We each went on in our own lives; we both moved away from home, experienced our own lives and joys and troubles. We both came home again.

For several years, I left the human race emotionally; worse than that, I left my family. He, however, never gave up on me. In my "not in my right mind" state of being at the time, I couldn’t understand; but he remained patient with and never lost faith in me. We reconnected again several years ago. I could regret all that I missed, and I have, but regret is mostly wasteful and useless. THAT doesn’t get anyone anywhere.

I embrace the "NOW" now. I don’t know if he really knows what he means to me. He had three brothers, I had four sisters; as boys I loved him like a brother. THAT never stopped. I remember thinking and feeling when we’d grown into young men that our differences separated us. As hard as I fought myself and denied myself in my homosexuality, I assumed that others would deny me as well. I thought love was conditional. I was wrong.

It isn’t the "what" we are that defines us, it’s the "who" we are. As different as we are: He’s a little bit country, I’m a little bit rock ‘n’ roll; he’s into sports, I’m into "Dancing With The Stars"; he can fix anything and build anything, I have trouble differentiating between the different kinds of screwdrivers; he is a country-boy, I’m a city-boy (okay, I’m laughed at for this: I say they live in the country but they only live twenty minutes away, but I’m sooooo urban. LOL) we’re like Oscar and Felix, "The Odd Couple", yet we share so much in common. Certainly family, but more than that, we share love and respect for each other. For example, I’d stayed at his house and we sat in the morning watching television and drinking coffee and we giggled like schoolboys enjoying each other’s company – just like we did when we were young boys.

I cherish him, my memories of us in childhood and the relationship we have now. I am incredibly moved and emotionally affected when I think of how I close I came to never experiencing this; but love is unconditional. We are very different yet so much alike. I’m sure he and I drive his wife crazy; but then again, I’ve seen his reactions and his eye rolling at his wife and me. She is also a source of great love and comfort and support. But more than any of that is the laughter, the good times we share even during the bad times. That is family; that is love.

Believe it or not, no amount of words that I type (and I know I can be quite prolific) can adequately express the emotions and feelings I have, the love I have, the gratitude I feel. Mere words cannot describe love.

So, my cousin turns another year older today; he’s but a pup, after all I’ve been this age for MONTHS now. In another few months my age will be one more than his. We may be in our forties, but inside, we are still those two little old boys laughing and playing.

I’m a single man, but by no means am I a lonely man nor am I alone. My heart is full of love both given and received. At some point I will become an old man and I may require assistance. I’m obviously training my godson/nephew to take me in when that time comes, after all I changed HIS diapers and he can change mine. But in the event that doesn’t happen, I guess my cousin will have to care for his elder cousin. It’s funny to say that and joking that I’ll someday move in with him and his wife in my "golden years" because he is several months younger and therefore obligated to his elders. It’s not likely but at the same time I’ve no doubt that if I ever were in need, he’d be there for me. There is no doubt that if he ever needed, I’d do whatever I could to be there for him as well. THAT is love; unconditional love.

I wonder how difficult it would be for me to convince him and his wife that instead of the beautiful remodeling they are doing that they should instead build an addition for me in my ... Nah, I’ll wait another 20 or 30 years. After all, we’re young and our love is never-ending.

Their favorite memory of me: What's your favorite memory of me:  Package of hotdogs, $1.99, Package of buns, $.99, case of beer, $14.99, watching Joey roast his hotdog on the bonfire, (in the country), Priceless!

Special friends and love … priceless.

Family. What is family to me?

Once, family was Mom & Dad, siblings, grandparents, the occasional other relatives, aunts, uncles, cousins.

A child only understands so much. Family is what he has at home. Now and then there is the interaction with others who are family and he experiences a love and connection with those who share with him the same ancestry and blood that flows through his veins. He may enjoy the interaction with and feel love for those of his extended family while they are together, but he goes home again and his world becomes small once again. What does a kid really know or understand?

Later that kid grows up. The little world that encompassed him that he called "life" and his "world" expands. He finds that everything he ever knew isn’t all that there is; the world is big, much bigger than he is, bigger than what he thought. He discovers that he, himself, isn’t the end all and be all of his own life. He remembers others who at one time or another were a part of his life; he remembers them and remembers the bond he felt while with them. He remembers other people who he thought were on the fringes of his life and sees them as an adult as FAMILY.

He looks back at his childhood and sees so many others. He remembers the affection he felt for them and the connection of relation; he understands more now and those people who he saw at picnics and such are more than just passing individuals. The fun shared, the good times, the affection shared among cousins is easily forgotten as we each grow and become our own selves and embark on our own lives.

Family isn’t just those who live in the same house. I’ve felt such affection and love for those I remember in my childhood. I continue to have the same affection and awe for those who were older than I, the "older kids" to whom I looked up and with whom I felt a loving bond; those who were the same age with whom I shared the same experiences growing up; and those younger, who were as I was at one time, completing the cycle of generation.

I remember the family reunions every year, the picnics where our families gathered and communed. The "older generation" died away and the events ceased. We all went off in our own directions, toward our own lives. Of course that is what our ancestors and parents wanted, for all of us to seek and find our own way in life.

Family has always been important to me. To me, the definition of "family" has always been my sisters, I guess. The five of us shared parents, home, experiences; as children we weren’t any different than any other siblings, we fought and argued and tortured each other (PMS to me is "Persecute My Sisters.") Children can be monstrous creatures and I’m sure I was no exception to that. These few decades later, however, it’s not what we did to each other that I remember. I remember each one specially and each one holds a special place in my heart. That’s not to say that I cannot, when prompted, recite a list of "wrongs" done against me; but now as an adult, those cause me to smile and laugh in retrospect at our young, careless actions, at times inconsiderate, at times mean-spirited and nasty. What I recollect most is the sense of togetherness that we had; and the love we had for one another. I hope that my sisters remember that as well and forgive any of my boyhood indiscretions.

I always felt a strong bond with family, but I wasn’t always able to act upon it. When my mother died, I, however unconsciously, stopped loving or being able to express my feelings. Those years of grief and self-imposed alienation are all on me; I cannot change the past or what I became or how I lived my life. I got caught up and lost in my own self agony. I forgot about the others. I neglected my family. Sure, when we were all together I relished in our family, but I didn’t see it any farther afterward.

I’ve learned something, though, in facing the death of my mother. It may have taken me years to learn it, but I have nonetheless. Love doesn’t demand grief or solitude. Had my mother been here to see my years of abdication of my life, I’m sure she would have slapped me from sunrise to sundown to bring me to my senses. At the time however I just wasn’t able to see or understand it. My family is more important to me than I ever knew including aunts, uncles, cousins; they are a part of me and I regret not understanding and abandoning my connection with them. Who knows you from cradle to grave? ONLY family.

I cannot make up for all the years lost, they are gone and not to be regained. Through everything, though, is the love of family I’ve always felt.

My family: my father; my sisters and their families, aunts and uncles, cousins, my stepmother and stepbrother and stepsisters and their families. That’s the thing. All we have is family. After the past few years, my mother’s side of family is nearly gone now. I look at this and realize that we aren’t in any way in control. Our time with each other is incredibly short; I have to seek out and embrace my family.

If my relationship with my family is an anomaly for a gay man, I consider myself lucky. I don’t think that a gay man by definition has to have a bad or nonexistent relationship with his family. They don’t particularly understand homosexuality because they can’t; but then of course, I don’t understand aspects of their lives, either. Within the realm of loving someone, there will always be things with which we may not agree or understand or even actions of which we approve; but it’s not the this or that, it’s the person … the love of the other; unconditional love means that no matter what choices or decisions one makes, whether we agree, approve or understand, doesn’t affect our feelings and emotions for the other person. We love. Of course, unconditional love goes both ways: just because they don’t approve of or understand homosexuality doesn’t mean they don’t love me. Just because they don’t approve of or understand homosexuality does not mean that I cannot love them. I cannot demand acceptance and love from someone without giving the same to them.

If I want to be loved for who I am, I must be willing to love them for who they are. Political, societal and personal differences included. To quote:

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.