The Combat Zone

Oh how I love my podcasts!

As I was listening to one of the segments on Tell Me More, one of my favorite programs on NPR, East Africa correspondent Gregory Warner used a term that hooked me and took me straight back to braces in Boston: the combat zone.

His reference to the combat zone had to do with a refugee camp located in the spot between the heinous group M23 and the not so impeccable Congolese army.  My point of reference had to do with the porn area in downtown Boston.

When I was 14 I got braces.  My mom took me to Tufts University dental school the first couple of times for the consultation and the "putting on" but after that, I took the bus and subway downtown on my own for the routine adjustments.

On our first walk through that dirty neighborhood, literally speaking, who was I to judge the wonts of others in the figurative sense, I was flabbergasted!  Despite my Catholic school uniform, what transpired between people in the sexual realm was not a secret, but I had never seen so much of the not-so-secret in just a few blocks!  This area was called the combat zone.  And there was no getting around it to get to the orthodontist.

The first time I went to an appointment by myself, I was intimidated walking through there alone.  No one ever made any inappropriate gesture or comment, that I can recall. Had they, at that age I imagine I would have let out with a razor sharp come back. Perhaps it was the plaid that kept others on their best behavior.



PS
If you don't much about what goes on in Congo, take a listen to this segment and then listen to the one following it.  The doctor Denis Mukwege was a Nobel Peace Prize nominee this year.  Or just listen because this is a truly an inspirational human being.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=243720241

Getting It Str8.

Just so I understand this correctly, the Boy Scouts has lifted its ban on openly gay boys, but openly gay men are not allowed in the organization.  At least that's what I've been hearing on NPR this afternoon.

Imagine being a parent of a young 12 year old boy who has been struggling with his place in life and has finally realized and is beginning to courageously accept that he is gay.  I would imagine you only want the best for this tender heart coming out to the world which he probably already knows will judge him more for being gay than anything else he does.

He decides to join the Boy Scouts.  You spend the money on the uniform, the meetings, the trips, you drive him back and forth, you listen to the stories of what new skills he learned and about life's values from those who the Boy Scouts put in charge of building character and self-esteem in youth, of being their role model.  You know, the straight guys.

For six years your son excels in the Boy Scouts.  He flourishes, he thrives, he creates, he shares, he is proud of who he has become.  It's his 18th birthday that year.  Now he must separate from the Boy Scouts.  Why?  Not because of behavior unbecoming a Boy Scout, not because he didn't meet the expectations of being a citizen of the community, not because he wasn't kind or respectful to his peers, but because he became of adult age and he's gay.

The Boy Scouts decided to allow gay boys to be part of their organization, but not the respectable, dedicated gay men who grew up in the organization and to whom those developing spirits would look for truth.

Hmmmm, I knew there was a reason I never wanted to be a Boy Scout.