Adventures in Used Car Shopping

I've spent the last few days looking at used cars for Hilary and Nathan. This proved to be a very interesting experience, as I used Craigslist to guide me along the way. The people you can meet driving all over Southern California looking for that perfect car can be quite entertaining!

I spoke with and met several individuals, getting glimpses into their lives, often leaving me wanting to know more about them, my curiousity piqued. But the two individuals that I really wanted to share with you were these:


First I met an actor living in a Beverly Hills apartment who was selling a Ford Escort. Maybe you'll recgonize him, his name is Barry Ratcliffe. Click the link to see his latest work.


He was a totally nice guy, and I would have bought the car from him except that it had more miles on it than I really wanted. He was so nice, in fact, that he let Diego use his potty twice, once for #1, then later for #2! While Giancarlo was helping Diego in the bathroom, Barry gave me a bottle of water and then motioned for me to come and look through a doorway that was just off the kitchen. He pointed at a woman sleeping in a poofy white bed, dead to the world, and laughed at her saying how she's been working very hard and was completely knocked out. I felt that I was looking at something very inappropriate! I mean, I know that if my significant other brought some stranger who was shopping for economy cars to the doorway of my bedroom while I was sleeping and laughed at me, I would be furious! Sleeping is very private! Secondly, how did she not wake up? Not only were we gazing into the room while Barry laughingly spoke of her exhaustion, but Diego was talking in his normal unabashed voice about going pee-pee!


Next I met a young construction worker in the hills of Glendale named Austin who was selling a Kia Spectra that he bought from the police impound yard. He was wearing a tank top, and he was pretty good looking, except that he had the bushiest armpits in America. These weren't just hairy, they were out. Of. Control. I kid you not! The hair poofed out like sprays of seaweed waving in the water, calling all attention away from his chiseled cheek bones, perfect nose, and piercing eyes. I was struggling not to stare, thinking vaguely about the manscaping that needed to be done. While we were looking at the car, his mother came out to the street, dragging heavily on a cigarette, and reminded him to buy water and lettuce when he was done with me. I'm certain she was one of the Barbi twins.

As she commented on what a great car the Kia was, Austin took the cigarette out of his mother's mouth, put it to his, and pulled smoke deep into this lungs. Once again, I felt like I was witnessing something that I shouldn't, as if sharing a cigarette with your Barbi twin mother was somehow bordering on the incestuous. In any case, I didn't feel comfortable with the car and I moved on.We ended up buying a Daewoo station wagon from a rental place in Downey. Yes, Downey, home of the late, great Karen Carpenter. Perhaps it was because this was the best deal. Perhaps it was due to the low miles on the car. Maybe it was due to the practicality of the car. Or, maybe it was because this was a place of business, something I am accustomed to, and there was no chance I would be shown things that maybe I shouldn't be shown.

.

This episode of The Jason Show originally aired in July, 2007.

Q & A With Your Token Gay: Part V

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

.
Karen asks:
If you could cast the movie roles of your life story who would play: You? Giancarlo? Claire? Amelia? Katrine? And my follow up question, will your life story be a major motion picture or a Lifetime movie? These are things I NEED to know! Well, I really wanted to know boxers or briefs but Tootsie beat me to it!

I have always wanted someone to ask me a question like this!!! You are so perceptive, Miss Diet Coke can-for-a-profile-picture-family-stalker Karen. I've been giving this one a lot of thought, and I just have NOT been able to make up my mind! So, I'm going to have to put it out there to my adoring fans. Yay! A contest of sorts at The Jason Show! I never thought I would do it, but here goes. . . .

Please submit a comment with casting suggestions for any/all of the following real live characters on The Jason Show, listed on the right hand of your screen under "Cast of Characters". Don't be shy! You lurkers and rare commenters, you know who you are. The more suggestions, the better.

Said suggestions may be serious or tongue-in-cheek. All suggestions will be considered by the producer of The Jason Show and compiled into one final list of actors that will play the real-life characters in my show in the upcoming

LIFETIME MOVIE!!!

(Really, there's too much cheese to make it to the big screen.)

I'll need a title for the movie, as well, so come on kids, get creative!

You guys came through on asking me lots of questions for Q & A With Your Token Gay, so I know you can do it with this one, too.

Oh, and, I know, I know, you're hoping there's a prize or a drawing involved. Well, people, the prize that you will get for making character and title suggestions will be. . . . . . . . .

a warm feeling in your heart knowing that you're doing a good thing.

.

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

Idaho Highway IV

My dad filed for divorce from his abusive, invalid wife, and a few months later he was legally single. This time my siblings and I wondered how quickly he would find another spouse. It didn't take too long. Only months after his divorce was final, he again announced that he was getting married. Again.

He had been shopping at D.I., which in Utah and Idaho is the Mormon equivalent to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. By the time his shopping spree was over, let's just say he left with more than inatimate used merchandise. As they're fond of saying, "She (or he) is the best thing I ever found at D.I.!"

Dad and his third wife, Vonna, were married without any of us present. This didn't surprise us, since he had a tendency to leave us out of things from time to time. Vonna is a few years older than Dad, and for a couple of years they seemed really happy. Vonna was a spry little lady, always joking and pulling pranks and telling funny stories. However, it quickly became apparent to us that she wasn't all there. She had become a victim of alzheimer's.

Over the past few months Vonna has steadily declined to the point where she often doesn't recognize her own children or remember their names. She spends her days wandering around the house, pulling things out of cupboards and closets so she can work on her "projects" but then quickly forgets what she was doing and moves on to the next thing, jabbering all the while. She also tries to wander away from the house, and frequently goes out to the old Nissan and attempts to start it so she can go somewhere, not remembering that it hasn't been in working order for years. My dad and Vonna's children have hired an aide to come to the house a few hours each day to help take care of Vonna so Dad can have some time to run errands, take care of things around the house and yard, and rest.

But it appears that Dad is once again, in a very real sense, alone.

Idaho Highway III

A year after the car accident that left my dad’s second wife severely brain damaged, he did something that, for him, was very brave. He got on a bus, then a train, then another bus, traveling for over 24 hours, to come to Southern California to be with Giancarlo and me at our commitment ceremony. He had never been to California, so having him here on that special day meant a lot.

The evening following our quiet ceremony, I sat with Dad on the back patio looking out over the valley. “Jason, there’s a few things I’ve been needing to tell you about Linda. It’s been over a year now since the accident. And let me tell you, it’s been such a relief to have that woman out of my life. I was feeling trapped and I had no idea how I was going to get out of that relationship. I’m filing for divorce.”

I was shocked; this was the first I had heard him speak of such things. He divulged that he had actually been a victim of spousal abuse. She was considerably bigger than him, and she would get angry, chasing him and smacking him around. Several times he ran out of the house with her on his tail, running away from her down the block, waiting for her to tire. She would eventually give up and go back home, and he would walk the streets of Rexburg for hours until he figured she had calmed down enough to go back home. And this was how they lived for at least two years.

Why didn’t he do anything about it? Why didn’t he say anything? For the same reason any victim of spousal abuse keeps quiet.

Except his shame and humiliation was even greater than most because his wife was beating him up.

Idaho Highway II

After the horrendous car accident, my dad’s second wife, Linda, fell into a coma. The doctors said she had sustained considerable brain damage, but the extent couldn’t be fully determined until she regained consciousness.

Amelia and I caught a flight to Salt Lake and then rented a car to travel the four hours north to Idaho Falls. It was a shock to see Linda. On TV coma patients are portrayed as being asleep, quiet, still. The reality of many coma patients is that they move around, their eyes are open, and they make noise. Linda was very restless, moaning, eyes open but not seeing, ears not hearing. Dad would try to talk to her, he would read to her, he would hold her hand. But nothing.

The future was uncertain. He didn’t know what to do or how to react, and everything was in limbo. This is how it stayed.

Nobody is really sure when Linda came out of her coma; the line between unconscious and conscious was very thin. She remained in critical care for several months and then was transitioned to a residential facility where she would receive 24 hour care. At some point she became aware of her surroundings because she began communicating with others. However, her only communications were violent outbursts of slurred, angry words and physical attacks. The woman my dad had married was gone. Left in her place was an irritated, uncomfortable, empty shell.

Once again, my dad lost his wife.

Idaho Highway

Seven years ago my father and his second wife, Linda, were parked at the side of a rural highway in Idaho arguing. A highly distracted mother in a minivan plowed into the rear of their car at 55 miles per hour sending it flipping over and over down the shoulder of the highway. My dad sustained minimal injuries. Linda suffered severe head trauma, clinging to life by a thread.



November, 1997

After our mother’s death on Christmas day in 1996, none of us thought our dad would remarry. Imagine our utter surprise when he called us all eleven months later and told us he would be getting married . . . . the following weekend.

His new wife was about twelve years younger than he, and she was about twelve inches taller than his 5’4 stature. Some of my brothers still lived at home, and she was not a popular addition to the family. I was personally happy for my dad—I didn’t want him to be lonely, and I knew he truly needed someone to take care of him. So I gave Linda the benefit of the doubt. I tried to be welcoming, and I had various long-distance phone conversations with her, trying to get to know her and show her my interest. Linda loved to talk, to a fault. On the phone, she was one of those people with whom you could put the phone down on the counter and pick it up five minutes later, and she’d still be talking, not realizing for a second that you had walked away.

I began hearing troubling reports from my siblings about her. They were things I didn’t want to believe, and I partly passed them off as typical step-child complaints. But then Linda started talking to me about my mother, saying things like, “You know, your mother wasn’t the angel you all make her out to be,” and “Your mom came from an environment based on abuse, shame and blame.” The topic of “shame and blame” became common; it seemed every time I talked to her and my dad this was the focus of the very much one-sided conversations.

The last straw for everyone seemed to be when they announced they were selling the house and moving to Idaho. And nobody except Linda’s daughter would be going with them.

Fast forward four years. Dad and Linda were contemplating the purchase of a home just outside the town of Rexburg, Idaho, where they had been renting. They were having a rather heated disagreement relating to this potential purchase as they drove down the highway toward the property. Linda was driving, as usual, but she pulled over to avoid a collision during their argument.

She never even knew what hit her.

Q & A With Your Token Gay: Part IV

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.
.

Janjanmom asks:

"I would have asked which one of you is the "girl" but the Diego post with you in the wheelchair and the grocery game already answered that. HEEEHEEE. I did always wonder about Diego and if maybe Giancarlo had been married and this was his son from that marriage-but you answered that with your story. You are a very thorough blogger and I have enjoyed getting to "know" you very much, blogger friend. One of my questions is about Giancarlo-has he been married before?"
I'm glad you asked the question about which one of us is the "girl". I suppose in some same sex relationships there are clearly defined gender roles. However, one of the things I like the most about my relationship with Giancarlo is that we entered it without any preconceived ideas about who should take which role, in any category. In some ways, he is more "like a woman" and in some ways I am. He takes care of the handyman type stuff around the house, but I kill the spiders and dispose of the rodents in the rodent traps. Likewise, I cook and clean, and he gets PMS. And if you really want to know. . . in our physical relationship things are the same way. No clearly defined roles. I like not feeling pigeonholed by society!

And no, Giancarlo has not been married (or committed) before.

"The other is, how did a gay man manage to get married and make that work?? My best friend in high school was gay and he really wanted to date me before he "came out" and the "obstacles" were not able to be overcome."
Claire chimed in to help answer this one:

I knew Jason was thinking about asking me to marry him when we were driving down the road and he said, "How important is a physical relationship is in a marriage?" To which I replied in all of my shaded youth, "Not that much." Then we perfected what we had and that was that. He sure did make a great wife! I miss that part the most I think. In truth, Jason gets gayer by the day. As he has become comfortable in his own skin he has really blossomed. :)




Kira asks:
"Other than Bossy (as I'm sure that would be your first response) who is the hottest blonde blogger you know? Note: The answer can include people who are blonde but just happen to still have remnants of red in their hair because they are too cheap to cover their previous color jobs."
Oh, how I love my blondes! This is undoubtedly a six-way tie between Kira, JLo, Pumpkin Delight, Jenn, Tootsie Farklepants, and oh, yeah, Bossy. (And if any of you are blonde and I don't know it, please forgive. You're among my favorites, as well.)



Claire asks:

"Did you ever try on my panties? (You opened the door pal!)"
What do you think I did every time you went to homemaking night? I love to wear panties. I love their silky feel. And the way my junk looks in them, so playfully bulging and peeking. There's something hot about wearing women's underwear; it gets me going like no other.

Gotcha again!
Actually, no, that kind of thing has never interested me. I guess that's not just my brand of gay! Sorry if this disappoints any of my readers.
.
Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

Tree and Apples

Clarification: None of the photos in this post are of me.

Tree:

Apple:




Tree:


Apple:

Tree:

Apple:

Tree:

Apples:

They haven't fallen far, have they?

My Alpo Confession

I think it's wickedly funny when my visually impaired, hearing impaired mother-in-law mistakes a can of Alpo for a can of refried beans.

.

I was going to save this confession for Karen's True Confession Thursday, but I just couldn't wait. So I'm going to double dip.

.

And while I'm confessing, Giancarlo told me not to blog about this Alpo incident, but I couldn't resist. So, if by some astronomical off chance you're reading this, Giancarlo, I'm sorry. The mind is willing, but the flesh is weak. Please forgive.

More Single Sentence Soup

Each week The Jason Show sends scouts out into the blogosphere, scouring blogs both well-known and yet-to-be-discovered for those single lines that are attention grabbers. Single sentences that resonate for their element of humor, touch of the bizarre, or ability to provoke thought are prestigiously linked to their author, in hopes that viewers of The Jason Show like you will be able to savor a serving of Single Sentence Soup just as our scouts have.

"I look like a MATRON OF HELL!"

"I'm definitely agnostic myself--mostly because it seems like it would be a lot of work to actually be an atheist."

"I parked my car, tripped over the curb slipped on the damp grass, fell over the next curb and landed - SPLAT - in the middle of the school parking lot."

"You are lucky you have toes."

"Well, she's got some big ol' tits."

"Strange boys were going to rub our naked bodies."

Q & A With Your Token Gay, Part III

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

.
Oreneta asks:

"All right, I came over from HULA, and I've been reading for a week, but I think there is a burning question I have to ask...how do you think the gap in Condoleeza Rice's front teeth is impacting on US foreign policy? Good or Bad?"

Both good and bad. Condi's gap serves as both a liability and point of contention for officials from other countries, but yet it is also her greatest defense strategy. The tooth-gap distraction keeps possible enemies from focusing on the problem at hand, and they quickly forget their gripes and issues against the U.S.

.

Tootsie Farklepants asks:

"Tightie whities? Left or right? Well, somebody had to ask."

You're right, Toots. I know it was only a matter of time. So, if you must know, no tightie whities. No boxers. Nothing. Commando. Free as a bird. Footloose and fancy free. Free ballin', if you will. As a result, there really is no left or right, it's just a whole lotta all over the place.

How I kid. I wear tightie blacks, grays, and navies. Whities are too. . . white. . . and not as forgiving in the laundry room. If you know what I mean. Well!? You asked!
.

Cortney asks:

"I cannot pass up an opportunity to know your thoughts on canned ravioli - please share! Another burning question is -- What do you think Captain Hook's name was before he had a hook for a hand??? Dying to know!!"

The truth about me and canned ravioli is not what you would think. I live in a very much Italian family, where pasta is never, ever meant to be eaten cold or as leftovers. Until recently, jarred or canned sauce was considered bad enough to require ten Hail Marys, and only parmesan and pasta imported from Italy will do. But I seriously LOVE Chef Boy-ar-dee Ravioli! I don't know why I like it. . . I just do. Probably has something to do with the astronomical sodium content.

And Captain Hook's name before he lost his hand? Captain Kirk.

.

Suz asks:

"If you were a character on Sex and the City, which would you be???Also, do you blog at night or in the a.m.? At work? at home? Fully clothed? :) Just kidding, that sounds perverted."

That is so funny you should ask! Just a few days ago some friends of mine at work and I were discussing this same question! They came to the conclusion that I would be Samantha, because I'm old and slutty. What the? I am so not old even though I am a grandpa. And slutty? Excuse me? I'm in an eleven year committed, monogomous relationship? Why would they say I'm slutty?

I said I would be Big. For reasons that I'll just have to leave to your imagination.

During the week, I have to blog in the evening. During the weekend it depends on what else is going on. I can only blog at home as all blogs are blocked at my workplace. Good thing, otherwise I might never get any work done.

And I have blogged in all states of dress/undress. Except not naked. That would feel strange to me, as I consider my readers to be my pals and/or sisters, and that would smack of incest. And I hate incest.

.

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

Q & A With Your Token Gay: Part II

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.
.

JCK asks:
"OK, do you like musicals?"
I have liked a few musicals in my time, but I'm not hard core. My favorites? Singin' in the Rain, Mary Poppins, Miss Saigon, Mamma Mia, and of course, Grease.

"Seriously, how much time do you spend writing your blog posts & reading other blogs? "

This is a bit of a sore spot between Giancarlo and me. He feels I spend too much time on the computer instead of spending it with my family. So I try to limit myself, some days only about thirty minutes, others an hour or hour and a half. I could seriously sit in my comfy chair with my laptop for four or five hours in a row and not even feel it.

Kenna asks:
"1) Are you a school teacher? What do you teach (& age)?"
Yes, I have been a teacher for over 15 years, and I've taught from grades K-6 during that time. I've been in second grade for the last eight years.

"2) Do you ever turn to Giancarlo and say, "WHAT SHOULD I BLOG ABOUT, G? GIVE ME A SUBJECT, I NEED A TOPIC RIGHT NOW!!!" or, do you ever feel that way? Does the pressure get ya? (of course knowing that 99% of the time blogging is for fun)"

Again, sore spot. So no, I never ask Giancarlo what he thinks I could write about, because you see that would be an open invitation for him to tell me that I don't NEED any topics because I blog way too much as it is. Sneaky, aren't I? Plus, most of the time I have something to write about floating around in my head.

"3) Are there any gay terms or stereotypes that just really get on your nerves (besides the obvious really bad ones, that is) (although "obvious" is relative, so maybe I'm clueless too)"

Well, I don't like any derogatory terms or stereotypes in reference to anyone, of course. There are a lot of words out there that aren't very nice that people use about gay people, but the one that bugs me that is so totally mainstream right now is when people say in reference to something unfavorable, "That's so gay."

"4) If you were to cut your foot off... then eat it... would you lose weight? My answer is only after you pood, but... what do you think? Okay, you got me, I was just kidding on that one."

Good question. I've never thought about it! Is that one of the questions from the random question generator on Blogger?

"5) You've had at least a few comments suggesting you write a memoir or other type of book. Is it something you've ever considered?"

Whut, lil' ole' may? Whay yer wayyy too kaynd.

Actually, no I haven't seriously thought about it. It seems like such a daunting task to get something published. . . I asked Bossy if she ever thought she'd publish a book and she didn't really think she would even be able to do it, which I questioned. But if she doesn't think she would be able to do it, I have serious doubts about lil' ole may.

"6) What blog reader do you use?"

I used to use Google Reader, but then after a while I sensed I was loosing touch of what peoples' blogs really looked like and felt like without looking at their actual blog site each time. So, I have a big old long list of bookmarked blogs, and I try to click on each one at least every other day.

.

(Kenna wins brownie points for submitting the most questions!)

.

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

Q & A With Your Token Gay: Part I

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

grandma j asks:

Jason, the only question I have is: Is that you on the toilet? You're using wayyyy too much toilet paper! :))

Yes, this is actually me on the toilet. I was eighteen years old on a choir tour with my school and we were staying at a hotel on Fisherman's Warf in San Francisco. I don't know which is worse, saying that this photo was staged or if someone actually walked in on me like this and took a pic. Okay, it was staged. This is as wild as I EVER got in high school. By the way, this was the same day that I had seen the ocean for the very first time. And yes, I think at times I do use wayyyyy too much toilet paper.

.

hula hank asks:

Jason, my question to you is, who is your favourite character on Golden Girls?

I'm insulted, hula hank, that you would be so stereotypical as to assume that just because I'm gay I'm a huge fan of the Golden Girls. The very idea! (Blanche Devereaux is my favorite, you know, because she has so much fun. But then again, I like Rose Nylund a lot because the ditzy things she says just roll me. Although, Sophia Petrillo, the oldest of the Girls, cracks me up with her sharp, sarcastic Sicilian whit. Wait, my most favorite is undeniably, without a doubt, Dorothy Zbornak because she spends her existence caught in the middle, trying to make sanity with the crazies she lives with. Kinda like me.)
.

heart shaped hedges asks:

As a *new* reader, I have lots of questions...I think the one I most want to ask....Do you attend church? I was very touched by your "story", and my heart hurt knowing that it was hard to reconcile who you are with the church in which you grew up. I wonder if you have been able to find a church where you can feel connected to God. (not that you need an institution to be close to God....but...anyways....)

I do not attend church other than the very occasional mass with my mother-in-law. Until I came to terms with my sexuality and my life within that context, I knew that my Mormon faith would .excommunicate me. Which they did, and you can read all about it here. Since then I've been unable to reconcile the idea of God and church and organized religion. I particularly have a very difficult time with religions that either a) have horrific, violent histories or b) say they are acting in the name of God but do things that are very un god-like. I can't get past the hypocricy and the use of guilt, fear, and shame to try to get people to act in a certain way.

I suppose I'm agnostic, but I'm kind of ambivalent about that.
.

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

Smiles for G-Daddy

Q & A With Your Token Gay

It seems that there comes a time in every blogger's life when pouring out every gritty detail of their lives into cyberspace, airing dirty laundry and voicing your innermost thoughts just aren't enough. Sooner or later, we all have to open it all up to questions from the readers, so we can share intimate details of our lives with strangers that we hadn't even thought to share before. In fact, Hula has just crossed this threshold on her blog, Growing Older But Not Up. She got me thinking. I believe it is time for me to do the same. Does this mean my blog has reached adulthood? Or is this the behavior of an adolescent blog? Or worse, is it the sign of a blog that is in its first stages of being over the hill?

In any case, this is a new segment of The Jason Show:

Surely you have questions that you've been dying to ask me, like what color my underwear is or if I've been on a nude cruise. Certainly there are things you simply must know about me and my life, like what kind of flushable wipes I use or how many times I've seen a man who looks like my long lost twin at the 99 Cent Store. Or maybe you'd like to know my opinion on important issues such as the gap between Condoleeza Rice's two front teeth or my thoughts on canned ravioli. And of course, I know there is a plethora of questions swirling around out there about living a non-mainstream life in an oh-so mainstream setting and what it means to be versatile in the gay world.

.

So come, on! Don't hold back! Lurkers, now's your chance! Polite regular commenters, this is the moment you've been waiting for. And even for those of you who know me or at least think you know me. . . well, you get the picture.

Whatever you do, please, don't leave me with crickets.

Single Sentence Soup

Each week The Jason Show sends scouts out into the blogosphere, scouring blogs both well-known and yet-to-be-discovered for those single lines that are attention grabbers. Single sentences that resonate for their element of humor, touch of the bizarre, or ability to provoke thought are prestigiously linked to their author, in hopes that viewers of The Jason Show like you will be able to savor a serving of Single Sentence Soup just as our scouts have.

"It's a vagina, not a clown car."

.

"...yes, indeed, my Mother's Day gift, in its original mailing envelope, was none other than a hot pink vibrator."

.

"If I start to tingle in the bad way, not the good way, then I am to go straight to a neurologist."

.

"I have an enormous head. Big brain and all, you know?"

.

"There's more to us than just being fun-suckers; we're useful!"

An Epilogue and a Prologue

Pushing open the doors to the nursery, we saw one little dark-haired baby bundled up tightly, frowning against the bright lights of the world, and we knew he belonged to us. Over the course of the next two days, we sat in a family visiting room and gazed at this infant boy wondering who he was, and how the stars all lined up correctly to make him so suddenly ours.

.

When the day arrived for us to take our little Dieguito home, hospital policy required him to ride down to the car in a wheelchair. He couldn't exactly ride in the chair by himself, so I got to sit in it to hold him.

.

As we rode, Giancarlo, Amelia and I chuckled at the surprised looks we got from other hospital patrons, and I marveled at the maturity and selflessness on one young woman's behalf that put me in that wheelchair with that amazing new tiny person.

Not a Diaper in the House

It was official. Kristina signed papers agreeing that we were to be the adoptive parents of her unborn child. Our baby boy was due the middle of April!

Suddenly our heads were spinning. So many things to do, so many things to buy, so much paperwork to fill out, not to mention the appointments with our attorney, social workers, and ancillary adoption workers among others. But we had a couple of months to pull it all together, so we felt we had sufficient time.

One Friday afternoon in March I came home from work looking forward to unwinding and then doing a few things around the house to prepare for the arrival of our baby. I walked through the front door and the first thing I saw was Amelia on the stairs with a shocked-but-elated look on her face. Then Giancarlo walked in with the same expression. “Jason, I got a call from our attorney just a few minutes ago. The baby was early! He was born two hours ago and he’s at the hospital waiting for us!”

“WHAT?” I stammered. “We don’t even have a single diaper! His room isn’t ready! Why is he early? Is everything okay?” Now our heads were really spinning! After an emotional group hug, we hopped in the car, not wanting our baby to pass another second in this world without his family around him.

It is a very unique feeling of anxiousness that you experience when you’re unexpectedly on your way to go see your new son for the first time. On the way, Giancarlo had the presence of mind to stop and pick up a bouquet of flowers for Kristina, although she had made it clear previously that once the baby was born she did not want to have any contact with us, or him. But the least we could do was to give her flowers.

My thoughts bounced wildly around in my head as I made phone calls to different family members and friends as we drove to Burbank. The only phone call that I clearly remember making was to Claire. In a daze, I blurted out to her he had been born a little while earlier. She was not surprised. Somehow she had a strong feeling earlier in the day that our little Diego was coming that same day. I don’t know what to call it. Intuition? ESP? Spiritual connectedness?

But one thing that still yanks and my heartstrings is whenever Claire talks about the emotional rollercoaster of the in-vitro process, she refers to it as, “When we were trying to have Diego.”

.

A Pre-emption

We interrupt this very special adoption story to bring you. . .

P R O M

A Very Special Sizzler Dinner

The embryos did not implant. Claire was not pregnant.

Everyone involved felt a great sense of disappointment, especially Giancarlo, especially Claire. We had no more embryos, and there was no more money for continued treatments. Everyone had done their best, but it just didn’t happen. I’m not one who is fond of saying, “It just wasn’t meant to be,” but in this case, I feel it wasn’t. At the time I didn’t, of course, but events played out in the future that brought me to this conclusion.

For a time we put the thoughts of having another child aside. The following year, 2003, turned out to be one of the most intensely difficult ones for our family, and it is fortunate that we all made it out the other side. It was the hardest year of my life. Some day I may tell that story, but for now it must remain untold. Suffice it to say that all of our time, efforts, and emotional energies were consumed that year; there was no place for a baby then. I felt certain that I would not be able to handle the emotional and physical responsibilities of a little child.

Giancarlo felt much the same way during that period of time, but then in February of 2004 he started talking about adoption. We discussed all of the options and scenarios, and spent a great deal of time looking at countless photographs online of older children that needed homes and families. Heartbreaking. Our hearts hurt for these children, and I felt selfish in concluding that so many of these kids came with so much baggage--health problems, severe emotional issues, birth defects due to drug and alcohol abuse during gestation, and so on and so on. We were not in a position to be able to care for such needy children, and we wanted a baby.

One afternoon Giancarlo called an adoption attorney with whom we had come in contact during our surrogacy quest, in hopes of finding somebody to assist us in starting the adoption process. After some discussion, Giancarlo began saying things like, "She's seven months along?" and "A boy?" and "You think she'd want to meet us?" My eyebrows raised and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Giancarlo scribbled down a phone number, thanked him, and hung up. The next thing I knew, we were both on the phone with a young woman named Kristina. We chatted for a while and after a few minutes she agreed that we should meet.

A week later we nervously sat across the table at a Sizzler in Eagle Rock from a reserved, attractive young latina who hardly looked pregnant at all, let alone seven months. Kristina had been doing her best to hide the pregnancy from her family by wearing baggy clothes and big jackets. Very well spoken, she asked us intelligent, probing questions. And she emphatically insisted that her baby to go to a male couple. Having seen first hand in her life how difficult it can be for same-sex couples to have children, she wanted to help, and she felt that a gay couple would make excellent parents. Besides that, she liked us for us!

In a matter of one incredibly short week, we had smoothly gone from merely thinking about the adoption process to having an immediate match with a birth mother. It seemed as if it were meant to be.

Commitment, Europe, and Hormone Injections

On June 9th, 2002, Giancarlo and I had a small, quiet commitment ceremony in the back yard of our new home. While we had been together for over five years, we wanted to make a formal commitment to each other in the presence of friends and loved ones. We also became officially recognized by the state of California registered domestic partners.

The year 2002 was a busy one. Three weeks after our commitment ceremony, we took my youngest brother, Paul, and our two girls, Hilary and Amelia, with us on a month long trek across Europe, including a week in Giancarlo’s home town, Casacalenda, Italy, and a 14-day Mediterranean cruise. It was beyond my wildest dreams, something I never thought I would be able to do in my lifetime much less share with my littlest brother and our daughters. Even taking the bumps and bruises that came along with hauling a ten year old and two teenagers on such a long trip into consideration, we had a very memorable time.

Meanwhile, Claire was back here in SoCal house sitting for us and undergoing the first of many grueling preparations for the in-vitro process. This included daily shots administered directly into her abdomen with horrifyingly long, thick syringes, multiple medications and hormone treatments, as well as frequent visits to the specialist in Beverly Hills. We returned from Europe just in time to witness these treatments and even assist in administering them. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done was stabbing those syringes into Claire’s tummy. In spite of the havoc that her body was undergoing, Claire took it like a trooper.

We were still adjusting to the generosity that came from Claire’s offer to help us have a baby. Pregnancy is never easy, but it seemed to be especially hard on Claire and the fact that she was willing to go through it again, for a fourth time, for us, was mind boggling. How many women do you know that have offered to carry a baby for her ex-husband and his registered domestic partner? And for that matter, how many husbands do you know who fully support their wives in carrying a baby for her ex-husband and his registered domestic partner? Dennis was a trooper, too, when it could have been so easy for him to disagree.

After over a month of treatments, the eggs were ready to be harvested, and the in-vitro fertilization and implantations were scheduled. During the whole in-vitro process, Giancarlo, Claire, and I were faced with some challenging questions and decisions. How many embryos will be fertilized? How many should be implanted? What will we do with the rest of them? How do we feel about quadruplets, triplets, twins? What if the implantation isn’t successful? How much money is this going to cost? Will we be able to try again if it doesn’t work?

One hot morning in August we drove to Beverly Hills in anticipation of the implantations. We had three viable embryos, and we decided to implant all three of them in hopes that at least one would survive. The doctor gave Claire a valium, and a few minutes later we were standing at Claire’s head watching the monitor while the doctor carefully placed the embryos inside her uterus. It was an astounding and surreal. The procedure went well and we went home in high hopes.

A couple of days later, Claire flew back to Seattle. It would be a few very anxious weeks for us all before we would be able to tell if she was indeed pregnant.

All we could do was wait.