Long overdue...The Manny
Have you ever had a best friend? Someone you trust completely, and who has been there for you, and you for them, over the years and years? I've been blessed with a handful of such people in my life.
Joseph is one of those people.
Last fall, as we struggled to pay for childcare and balance other expenses without sinking further into the hole, my very dear friend Joseph offered to come be our nanny. It seemed a win-win situation--he could make a bit of cash, we could spend less overall on childcare and hopefully get to a better space financially, during the next year and a half before Noah starts school.
But there is so much more to it than that.
To tell you that story, I have to take you all the way back to 1991.
It is fall 1991. The 80s are over, but not yet long forgotten. Bush Sr. is in the Whitehouse, and US troops are in Kuwait. Kurt Cobain and Jerry Garcia are alive and touring. The X-Files is weekly watching, along with Beverly Hills 90210, for the 18 something crowd. I head off to college.
At Chapel Hill, I find myself drawn to a funky little tight-knit group called St. Anthony's Hall, a co-ed literary and arts fraternity. Equal parts goth, hippie, radical and queer this family pulled me in at a time when I had just left my own large, close knit nuclear family. One of the first people I friended there was Joseph--we pledged together that fall, along with our dear friend Andi.
You know I can't even recall our very first meeting anymore--I assume it was in the living room, sitting on the couch we lovingly called Cleveland, or on the back porch over some vegetarian grub cooked up at Antoine's (our house kitchen)...one of the very earliest pictures I have of the two of us together is from December of that semester. We went to see Santa at a mall that no longer even exists. I got felt up by Santa as the picture was taken, and we would joke about that dirty old Santa for years to come.
Joseph must have been...what, a junior? He was over 21, I know--for two reasons. One, because he could buy me the big jugs of Carlo Rossi wine I would mix with sprite or ginger ale for my homemade 'wine-coolers'...and two, because when I met Joseph, he already knew he was HIV positive--though I wouldn't find out about that for some years to come. When I did, I would also learn that he got the diagnosis on the week of his 21st birthday.
Remember, the 80s had just ended. Do you remember the 80s? What it meant to be diagnosed with HIV/AIDS? Not just a death sentence--it also meant social ostracism and shame.
Times have changed way over here in 2008. Medication and treatment have improved, people are living longer and longer with HIV/AIDS than was expected back then. And I now know so many more people who have seroconverted. There is more openess and transparency about infection, especially within the gay male community.
But in our story we are still back in the early 90s.
We were all students, meaning we were all of course broke (the more things change...). We got by on underpaid part time jobs, student loans, help from our parents. Joseph's parents had it pretty tight already; his father had already begun at this point his path down a long and debilitating illness, and was surviving on disability. But when they got a check, they would send some to Joseph...and he would run out to the local gourmet whole foods store and come back with strawberries, champagne and fine cheese to share with Andi and I. It was always this way--whenever he would have cash, he would want to treat, and when he treated, he treated to the best. He taught me more than I can explain about living every moment to the fullest, about the kindness of sharing even when you have next to nothing...all the more reason to share. He taught me--not through words but through actions--about karma, about putting out in the universe what you want to get back, about friendship.
Let me not wax too nostalgic here, as I can already here the guffaws from the peanut gallery of Steed and Joey...living each day as though it is your last inevitably has some drawbacks...when you wake up the next day and you are still here. Indeed, Joseph is a part of a whole generation of gay men, diagnosed in the late 1980s through the early to mid 1990s, who did believe they had only a short time to live--and who acted accordingly. Fast forward to 2008, and this generation of men (many of whom are in fact still living and doing well, health wise) now are grappling with a very different set of issues. The things that matter to someone at 21 who thinks he will not see 30 look very different when you find yourself at 40. This generation grapples with lost potential in a very real way...some dropping out of school, developing serious drug and alcohol dependencies, running up debt...not expecting to be alive, many reached for the moment in a way I can understand.
Joseph left school just one Spanish class shy of his degree, and after a time in Charlotte, headed out West to the Gay Mecca--the Golden State of California. For a time we were out of touch, actually, as I wrapped up school and he started living the gay life in West Hollywood. But not for long. I graduated and headed west myself.
When we met again, it was as though no time had passed...the way it is with old friends. Andi, the third part of our triumvirate, had headed out to Berkeley the year prior, and Joseph ended up moving up to San Francisco himself.
During this time I learned Joseph had been diagnosed with AIDS, when his T-Cell count dropped below 200--I also came to understand perhaps some of the motivation behind his carpe diem zest for life. I lived in Tucson but made frequent jaunts up to the Bay area to visit Andi and Joseph. We were all in long-term relationships at one point in the late 90s with various ups and downs--more down then up I suppose as all of them ended a lifetime ago. Even though we all had these significant others, there was something particularly wonderful about having each other too--in many ways, the friendships we made as a young adults were more durable than the partnerships we made at that time, looking back.
It was during this time that Joseph sat me down and asked if I would be his caregiver. I was coming to learn much more about AIDS, about the treatments and the community and the planning and attention given to end of life issues. A caregiver is someone who is there full time when the time comes that a person needs that care. I took this request very seriously--I researched and read about what it meant, and I told Joseph that yes, when the time came, I would do this for him.
Of course in the intervening years, I've learned more about being a hospital advocate than a caregiver in actuality though!
By the late 90s, all of our romantic relationships forged through that decade began to splinter. Andi's relationship was the first to end--she moved on to New Orleans, where she remains to this day. When Joseph's relationship ended, affordable housing in San Francisco became an issue...Joseph has long had a touch of the rambler about him, though, so he began to roam. He lived with us in Tucson, though the culture there left something to be desired for him, so he also would head out for New Orleans, or to Fort Lauderdale when the tennis called, or back to the Bay area...Joseph developed into a champion tennis player during these years, and really is something to see on the court. When my own marriage fell apart in Tucson, Joseph headed down to South Florida more permanently, and I moved back to NC.
Parasailing in Key West
On Duvall St in the Florida Keys
Then his father became increasingly ill, and his mother was also dealing with knee replacements and health issues, so Joseph moved back to his family home outside of Charlotte to be caregiver to his parents. With both of us back in NC, and him having a handy car and a willingness to drive as always...we got to start seeing much more of each other.
From left to right--Andi, Joseph, Roberta, Carolyn. I am about 7 months pregnant with Noah here.
And for the past 4 or 5 years, as I remarried and started a family...Joseph has been there, every step of the way.
Joseph meets Noah
In particular...he's been there as I've been raising these children, and has developed his own bonds with both Noah and Cassidy.
Reading to Noah
Blue Steele
Swinging Noah at the Park
Tickling Noah
Bath time
Puzzle time
>
Joseph meets Cassidy
At Hilton Head--From left to right, Roberta with Cassidy, Joseph, Andi with Tiba Lou, Russ
Getting to know Cassidy
In a very real way, Joseph has been a part of these kids lives from the get go. Without question, he is the closest adult they know outside of our family--and even within my family, Joseph is more frequently seen and known to them than many aunts and uncles they have.
He's quite close to Keegan as well.
So when the time came where we were struggling to figure out what to do for childcare, as Joseph found himself approaching 40 and facing his own questions about his life's work and financial stability, when he offered this time to be caregiver for my family...well it just fit. Because Joseph is my family. My chosen family. Which makes him a part of the kids family too. And I can't think of anyone I'd trust any more than him with my children--because I know he loves them sincerely.
I really do feel lucky--both in my relationship with my husband Russ, in my family of origin, and in my family of choice--I seem to have gotten the best of all possible worlds. My parents will be watching the kids on Mondays until the summer, when Russ's mom takes over after she retires. Joseph will watch the kids Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday. I've dropped my schedule down a couple of hours (I had been at 35) to be off on Fridays, meaning I also get an extra day a week with the kids, which is very dear.
Seriously...don't you wish you had such a fabulous Manny?
And so we arrive at today. Joseph's first day in his new official capacity as nanny to the Moore-Barnes kids. Good luck, Joseph, and thank you. You are the best brother a gal could want.
Joseph is one of those people.
Last fall, as we struggled to pay for childcare and balance other expenses without sinking further into the hole, my very dear friend Joseph offered to come be our nanny. It seemed a win-win situation--he could make a bit of cash, we could spend less overall on childcare and hopefully get to a better space financially, during the next year and a half before Noah starts school.
But there is so much more to it than that.
To tell you that story, I have to take you all the way back to 1991.
It is fall 1991. The 80s are over, but not yet long forgotten. Bush Sr. is in the Whitehouse, and US troops are in Kuwait. Kurt Cobain and Jerry Garcia are alive and touring. The X-Files is weekly watching, along with Beverly Hills 90210, for the 18 something crowd. I head off to college.
At Chapel Hill, I find myself drawn to a funky little tight-knit group called St. Anthony's Hall, a co-ed literary and arts fraternity. Equal parts goth, hippie, radical and queer this family pulled me in at a time when I had just left my own large, close knit nuclear family. One of the first people I friended there was Joseph--we pledged together that fall, along with our dear friend Andi.
You know I can't even recall our very first meeting anymore--I assume it was in the living room, sitting on the couch we lovingly called Cleveland, or on the back porch over some vegetarian grub cooked up at Antoine's (our house kitchen)...one of the very earliest pictures I have of the two of us together is from December of that semester. We went to see Santa at a mall that no longer even exists. I got felt up by Santa as the picture was taken, and we would joke about that dirty old Santa for years to come.
Joseph must have been...what, a junior? He was over 21, I know--for two reasons. One, because he could buy me the big jugs of Carlo Rossi wine I would mix with sprite or ginger ale for my homemade 'wine-coolers'...and two, because when I met Joseph, he already knew he was HIV positive--though I wouldn't find out about that for some years to come. When I did, I would also learn that he got the diagnosis on the week of his 21st birthday.
Remember, the 80s had just ended. Do you remember the 80s? What it meant to be diagnosed with HIV/AIDS? Not just a death sentence--it also meant social ostracism and shame.
Times have changed way over here in 2008. Medication and treatment have improved, people are living longer and longer with HIV/AIDS than was expected back then. And I now know so many more people who have seroconverted. There is more openess and transparency about infection, especially within the gay male community.
But in our story we are still back in the early 90s.
We were all students, meaning we were all of course broke (the more things change...). We got by on underpaid part time jobs, student loans, help from our parents. Joseph's parents had it pretty tight already; his father had already begun at this point his path down a long and debilitating illness, and was surviving on disability. But when they got a check, they would send some to Joseph...and he would run out to the local gourmet whole foods store and come back with strawberries, champagne and fine cheese to share with Andi and I. It was always this way--whenever he would have cash, he would want to treat, and when he treated, he treated to the best. He taught me more than I can explain about living every moment to the fullest, about the kindness of sharing even when you have next to nothing...all the more reason to share. He taught me--not through words but through actions--about karma, about putting out in the universe what you want to get back, about friendship.
Let me not wax too nostalgic here, as I can already here the guffaws from the peanut gallery of Steed and Joey...living each day as though it is your last inevitably has some drawbacks...when you wake up the next day and you are still here. Indeed, Joseph is a part of a whole generation of gay men, diagnosed in the late 1980s through the early to mid 1990s, who did believe they had only a short time to live--and who acted accordingly. Fast forward to 2008, and this generation of men (many of whom are in fact still living and doing well, health wise) now are grappling with a very different set of issues. The things that matter to someone at 21 who thinks he will not see 30 look very different when you find yourself at 40. This generation grapples with lost potential in a very real way...some dropping out of school, developing serious drug and alcohol dependencies, running up debt...not expecting to be alive, many reached for the moment in a way I can understand.
Joseph left school just one Spanish class shy of his degree, and after a time in Charlotte, headed out West to the Gay Mecca--the Golden State of California. For a time we were out of touch, actually, as I wrapped up school and he started living the gay life in West Hollywood. But not for long. I graduated and headed west myself.
When we met again, it was as though no time had passed...the way it is with old friends. Andi, the third part of our triumvirate, had headed out to Berkeley the year prior, and Joseph ended up moving up to San Francisco himself.
During this time I learned Joseph had been diagnosed with AIDS, when his T-Cell count dropped below 200--I also came to understand perhaps some of the motivation behind his carpe diem zest for life. I lived in Tucson but made frequent jaunts up to the Bay area to visit Andi and Joseph. We were all in long-term relationships at one point in the late 90s with various ups and downs--more down then up I suppose as all of them ended a lifetime ago. Even though we all had these significant others, there was something particularly wonderful about having each other too--in many ways, the friendships we made as a young adults were more durable than the partnerships we made at that time, looking back.
It was during this time that Joseph sat me down and asked if I would be his caregiver. I was coming to learn much more about AIDS, about the treatments and the community and the planning and attention given to end of life issues. A caregiver is someone who is there full time when the time comes that a person needs that care. I took this request very seriously--I researched and read about what it meant, and I told Joseph that yes, when the time came, I would do this for him.
Of course in the intervening years, I've learned more about being a hospital advocate than a caregiver in actuality though!
By the late 90s, all of our romantic relationships forged through that decade began to splinter. Andi's relationship was the first to end--she moved on to New Orleans, where she remains to this day. When Joseph's relationship ended, affordable housing in San Francisco became an issue...Joseph has long had a touch of the rambler about him, though, so he began to roam. He lived with us in Tucson, though the culture there left something to be desired for him, so he also would head out for New Orleans, or to Fort Lauderdale when the tennis called, or back to the Bay area...Joseph developed into a champion tennis player during these years, and really is something to see on the court. When my own marriage fell apart in Tucson, Joseph headed down to South Florida more permanently, and I moved back to NC.
Parasailing in Key West
On Duvall St in the Florida Keys
Then his father became increasingly ill, and his mother was also dealing with knee replacements and health issues, so Joseph moved back to his family home outside of Charlotte to be caregiver to his parents. With both of us back in NC, and him having a handy car and a willingness to drive as always...we got to start seeing much more of each other.
From left to right--Andi, Joseph, Roberta, Carolyn. I am about 7 months pregnant with Noah here.
And for the past 4 or 5 years, as I remarried and started a family...Joseph has been there, every step of the way.
Joseph meets Noah
In particular...he's been there as I've been raising these children, and has developed his own bonds with both Noah and Cassidy.
Reading to Noah
Blue Steele
Swinging Noah at the Park
Tickling Noah
Bath time
Puzzle time
>
Joseph meets Cassidy
At Hilton Head--From left to right, Roberta with Cassidy, Joseph, Andi with Tiba Lou, Russ
Getting to know Cassidy
In a very real way, Joseph has been a part of these kids lives from the get go. Without question, he is the closest adult they know outside of our family--and even within my family, Joseph is more frequently seen and known to them than many aunts and uncles they have.
He's quite close to Keegan as well.
So when the time came where we were struggling to figure out what to do for childcare, as Joseph found himself approaching 40 and facing his own questions about his life's work and financial stability, when he offered this time to be caregiver for my family...well it just fit. Because Joseph is my family. My chosen family. Which makes him a part of the kids family too. And I can't think of anyone I'd trust any more than him with my children--because I know he loves them sincerely.
I really do feel lucky--both in my relationship with my husband Russ, in my family of origin, and in my family of choice--I seem to have gotten the best of all possible worlds. My parents will be watching the kids on Mondays until the summer, when Russ's mom takes over after she retires. Joseph will watch the kids Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday. I've dropped my schedule down a couple of hours (I had been at 35) to be off on Fridays, meaning I also get an extra day a week with the kids, which is very dear.
Seriously...don't you wish you had such a fabulous Manny?
And so we arrive at today. Joseph's first day in his new official capacity as nanny to the Moore-Barnes kids. Good luck, Joseph, and thank you. You are the best brother a gal could want.