My Thoughts on Indiana....

I'm appalled by the recent decisions on the "Religious Freedom Act" in Indiana. Appalled, but sadly, not shocked. We've come a long way in this country, but we still have so far left to go. Unfortunately, there is a major mountain in our way. That mountain is religion. And it is going to be one hell of a bitch to move. 

Now, before you get all Jesus freak on me, I'm not hating on religion. In fact, I firmly believe that everyone should have the right to worship whatever God or Gods they see fit. The problem I have is when people use religion as a means to control others, or breed hate. Now, I'm not religious. I wouldn't necessarily say I don't believe in God, but he's on the same list as Santa and the Tooth Fairy. I have yet to see proof of his existence. BUT... I was raised in the church, and I've read the Bible. I recall a lot of "Don't judge" and "Love thy neighbor" in there, but I cannot remember even a single passage that says "Don't sell flowers and cakes to gays" or anything even remotely similar. 

The Bible is mostly allegory. Which means it's open to interpretation. Those interpretations can easily be swayed, based on one's personal feelings and beliefs. It was also written a bajillion years ago, and much of what we're interpreting has little or no relevance in our current modern society and culture. Is that to say that the Bible can't offer us some moral guidance? No. Of course it can. But at the end of the day, we must remember that the Bible is merely a book, written by humans, NOT GOD. Humans who are inherently flawed and often biased. (If you don't think that's true, Google Bible passages about women. Most of those would make your inner feminist run screaming for the hills.) It's also been translated time and again, and in those translations it's been reinterpreted by the translator. So if we're being completely honest, the odds that we're even reading the same words that the prophets heard from the Heavens are slim at best. The Bible is the original telephone game. Likely misheard, and miscommunicated over and over before it reached us.
So if the Bible can't always be trusted, what can we do to ensure we're making sound moral judgments? It's quite simple really. We use our brains. You don't need the Bible or a priest to tell you that murder is bad, right? You see, we have this little thing inside our brains that helps us make good decisions. It's called a conscience. It's what reminds us to be compassionate and empathetic. It guides us toward choices that make us feel good.
Does hate make you feel good? (If you answered yes to that, I'm afraid your problems are bigger than the Bible can solve.)
Here's the thing about religion. It's a mighty powerful tool, and in the wrong hands, it can do much more damage than good. If you've studied any history, you know that powerful people have been using religion as a means to control others for as long as it has existed. Either through guilt, fear, or misguided morals, man has often used the guise of religion to his (or her) own advantage. It has occurred countless times throughout history, and still happens quite often today. 

That's what's happening in Indiana, and what could potentially happen in many other states as well, if we don't do something about it. 

Allowing businesses to act in a discriminatory fashion, and use religion as a scapegoat is nothing short of legal bigotry. 
The definition of a bigot is someone who is intolerant of any differing creed, belief, or opinion. To go so far as to deny service to someone because of their religion or sexual orientation is pretty damn intolerant, wouldn't you say? So why not just be honest, and stop using religion as an excuse? I'll tell you why, because the Bigot Freedom Act wouldn't draw in nearly as much support. But throw "Religious" in there, and suddenly, you're not a bigot, you're doing "God's work". I call bullshit. If you want to deny gay people service, then at the very least you should be as out and proud with your bigotry as they are with their love. Don't be a closet bigot, and hide your prejudice and ignorance behind the Bible. Don't do all Christians a disservice by claiming you're one of them. Because you're not.
Allowing a law like this to pass is a disgrace. It takes us back to a time when your skin color decided where you could sit, and who you could love. Back then, people used religion as an excuse as well. But now we call those people racists.
Not everyone has to like everyone else. And not everyone has to agree with everything that everyone else does. You're entitled to your opinions and your beliefs. But that doesn't mean that your beliefs should outweigh those of someone else. Our differences and diversities are what make us special. If everyone always thought the same way, we would never have made the incredible discoveries and great strides we've made so far. Cultures are constantly changing, and with each new change will come a lack of understanding. But a fear and hatred of the unknown has never ended in anything positive for the human race. 
cough* Native Americans, Holocaust, witch trials, slavery, segregation, etc. *cough*
Do we really want to repeat those mistakes? We are creating our own history right now. How do we want future generations to remember us?

I Just Feel.... Empty

As I sit down to write this post, I'm still not 100% sure I can even put it into words, let alone share it with the world. But I'm going to try, because this is my therapy. This blog is my couch and counselor. I've always sworn to be honest and real when I'm writing, and since this is something that has been weighing on me for some time, I feel compelled to release it, or it will most definitely eat me alive. 
So here goes...
Ever since losing Zach, I've discovered feelings that I never knew existed within me. Emotions that it has taken me quite some time to identify. Maybe they've always been there, just below the surface, but until recently, I couldn't quite put my finger on them.
Let me start at the beginning. Not too long before meeting my husband (Dan) I was diagnosed with some female medical issues. I won't get into the details, but after several procedures and doctors, I was essentially told that having kids was probably not going to be an option for me. It could happen, but the likelihood was low. At the time, I was 18 years old. Fresh out of high school, and the only future I was concerned with was the weekend ahead. I'm not even sure the news fully registered with me. I barely gave it another thought. Fast forward about a year, and I met Dan. This amazing guy that I instantly connected with. And if that wasn't awesome enough, he came complete with a miniature version of himself that I also fell head over heels in love with immediately. Zach was four years old, and damn near the perfect child. Sweet, funny, adorable, loving, and buckets of fun. Sure, we had challenges along the way, but he and I formed a bond that was stronger than anything I could ever have fathomed. By 20, I was living with Dan and Zach, and we were a regular family. I was even a stay at home mom. At this point, the idea of not being able to have kids was something that I had begun to think about from time to time. Especially when Zach would ask for a baby brother or sister multiple times a day. But aside from my medical issues, there was another issue with adding to our family. That was Dan. You see, Dan was a teenage father. Not the ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination. Add to that the fact that Zach's mother had a change of heart, and had all but abandoned him by the age of nine months, and the fact that Dan had very strong feelings about NOT having any more kids, well... it made sense. He had made it very clear, right from the beginning, that he was a one and done dad. Being only 19, and believing I couldn't have kids anyway, this wasn't a deal breaker for me. Besides, we already had a kid who we adored, so it wasn't like I'd never get to experience motherhood. 
Over the next 13+ years, we raised our son, and went about our lives. I won't say that I never thought about having kids, but it wasn't something I was dwelling on. I focused on the future, and figured I'd just be the most kick ass grandma someday. Zach had just graduated from high school, and we were helping him sort out his college plans. Then everything changed. 
On August 4, 2012, we said goodbye to Zach. Our only child, and our entire world. The emptiness that follows the loss of a child is something that has no comparison. My heart was shattered, and my soul was lost. I found myself yearning for something to fill the hole that losing my son had left in me. I knew, from talking to other grieving parents, and from my reading on the subject, that these feelings were normal. "Don't worry, they'll pass." I was told. 
It's been almost three years since losing Zach, and the feeling has only gotten worse. I've tried distracting myself with work, hobbies, and various activities, but nothing changes.
I'm 35 years old now. I've watched all my friends and loved ones grow their families. Baby after baby I've celebrated. Since losing my own child, each birth has been more painful than the last. Every pregnancy bringing with it anger and jealousy. And then to hear all the moms talk about motherhood to me as if I know nothing of the subject. As if I didn't watch my own child grow into a man, only to be stolen from me. But you know what.... they're not wrong. Because for all the experiences I do have as a mother, there are so many that I don't. I've never known the surprise and fear of finding out you're pregnant. Never felt and watched my body change, as I grew a person inside of it. Never seen the look of love on my husband's face as he felt his child kick for the first time. Never stressed over picking the right name, or what colors to paint a nursery. I've never felt the agony of childbirth, and the immeasurable joy of hearing your child cry for the first time. I've never fed from my breast, never stared into a brand new face, looking to see myself, and I've never been called "mommy". 
I've always thought of myself as someone who thrived on experiences. Of relishing, first hand, in all the ups and downs that life had to offer. But for one of the greatest, most amazing, powerful, and life changing experiences a person can have, I've never been more than a bystander. I've always had to live those moments vicariously through someone else. Before losing my son, I could accept that, because I had him. I had a future. I would watch my child grow, dance with him at his wedding, and all the extra motherly love I had in me would be bestowed upon my future grandchildren and great grandchildren. 
But that future is gone now. And my heart still has so much to offer, but nowhere to put it.
I see mothers with their children and my heart breaks anew. I hold my tiny nephew to my chest and I never want to let him go. I see my sister spoil her grandchildren and I wonder what that feels like, because I'll never know. 
At night, I dream of my son, and in many of them, he's holding a baby girl and smiling. He tries to give her to me, but I wake up before he can. I don't know what the dreams mean, but I know I wake up feeling even more empty and sad than when I fell asleep. 
Maybe it's my Grief causing these feelings. Maybe it's my biological clock screaming at me to do something before it's too late. Maybe it's a change in hormones. Maybe it's all of these things and more, I just don't know. Whatever it is, it fucking sucks, and I wish I knew what to do about it. 
But for now, I'll just keep trying to push forward and hope for the best.

My Two Cents on Catcalling

Lately, I am seeing more and more male bashing from women and so called feminists. As I've said before, I do not consider myself a feminist. A proud woman, yes. A feminist, no. 
Let's get something clear. Men are not our enemy. The majority of complaints I see and hear from women about men should be directed at ourselves, and not at the male sex. Yes, you heard me, I said at ourselves. We can't put all men into the same category. When they do that to us, we freak the fuck out. So why is it acceptable to do it to them? It's not. So stop.
That being said, I want to address a topic that has come up more and more lately, and offer my unsolicited opinion on it. That topic is catcalling. 
For starters, we need to make a clear distinction between aggressive attention, and normal human behavior. When I hear women complain about being catcalled, I've found that a large percentage of the things they are referencing are far from offensive. 
Let's start with normal human behavior.
It is absolutely not abnormal for people to want to look at things we find pleasing to the eye. This is true for art, nature, and the human form. There are scientific reasons for it, that I will not go into right now, but let's just sum it up as instinctual. We all do it. Our eyes will linger on things that appeal to us. Does that mean we should stare, open mouthed, for hours at a stranger on the subway? Of course not. But we absolutely cannot shame everyone who does a double take. We've all done it.
When we get up each day, shower, do our hair, put on some makeup, pick out the perfect outfit, and go out into the world, why are we doing this? We do it to look and feel our best. But we also do it so that we get noticed. And anyone who says differently is lying. It's why we get mad at our partners when they don't notice a new outfit or hairstyle. So why then, do we take such offense when someone actually notices? Here's what I think.
I think more often than not, it's less about the action and more about the person it is coming from. I have seen countless examples of this. A woman is at the grocery store and a well dressed, attractive man compliments her. She blushes, smiles, and thanks him. That same woman is later complimented (in a nearly identical manner, mind you) by the less attractive, and maybe not so well dressed bag boy. She is instantly offended. Apparently it's only flattering if the person is someone you find appealing. Is this always the case? No. But I have seen this happen more times than I can count. So there is definitely something to it.
Another thing I see a lot is women taking offense to a simple hello, or how are you. Umm... we do understand that greetings like these are how conversations are started, right? Maybe we're having a bad day. Maybe we're in a hurry, or are too busy to chat. Fine. But you can't blame someone for trying. They don't know that. They merely saw someone they found attractive or interesting, and they wanted to start a dialogue. Does this qualify as unwanted attention? I suppose by some definitions it does. But it's far from offensive behavior, and certainly not worth bashing someone for. There was once a time before social media and smart phones, when this was how people met and got to know one another.
Now, I don't deny there are some men (and women) who take things too far. It happens. Lewd remarks, gestures, and rude or aggressive approaches are a very real thing, and they definitely need to stop. And I for one, have no issues telling those who do these things to "Fuck off". But the reality is, that we cannot put all forms of behavior and intent in the same bucket. And we cannot solely blame men. Personally, I have been offended much more often by women giving me the once over, followed by a dirty look and negative remark or attitude, than I ever have been by men. Without question, I feel way more judged by other females than I do by males.
When I said earlier that much of what we want to male bash on should be directed at ourselves, this is what I meant. We can't fault someone for looking at something we put on display. (I said looking, not leering and certainly not touching. Let's be very clear on that.) Do we have to dress a certain way so that no one looks at us? Of course not. But we also have to accept that if we're exposing ourselves, sometimes, people are going to look. Once again, that's human nature. Right or wrong. Yes, there is such a thing as self control, and without a doubt, some folks need a lesson in it. Looking at a young girl in tight pants and a low cut top and thinking (or saying) inappropriate things is no less wrong than staring at the heavy set woman in Wal-Mart in the spandex mini skirt and doing the same. Yet, I see and hear countless women snickering and making snide remarks about people like that, while in the same breath bitching about a man saying "nice ass" when she wears her yoga pants to a club. Why is one acceptable, but not the other? Judgment is judgment. Women are very often guilty of this behavior, and that makes us no better than the men whistling at you when you walk by. At least, in some twisted way, that man thinks he's paying you a compliment. When we make fun of someone's bad hair, and terrible fashion choices, there is nothing flattering about it. We can't be preaching one and then doing the other.
We also can't blame men for our own internal issues. Being self conscious, feeling nervous, being shy, or lacking self worth are not the fault of the person trying to interact with you. Some things that may make you feel uncomfortable can't be blamed on others, and instead need to be addressed by you. If someone pays you a genuine compliment, and you don't know how to accept it.... that is on you. 
I'm sure this will probably offend some ladies. And that's fine. I've yet to please everyone, so I don't expect to start now. But I think if we were to be brutally honest with ourselves, and really think about it, we'd know that there is a lot of truth to what I've said here. As always, there are exceptions to every rule. And this post is by no means giving people permission to be inappropriate and disgusting. And if you are one of those guys (or gals) who thinks it's cute and/or funny to act like a sexist pig... knock it off. If you ever want to have sex with someone other than yourself, I strongly suggest learning some manners. 

Sandblast Rally: Team Finn's Debut

From the moment Dan and I decided to carry on our family dream of building and racing a rally car, I knew it would be an adventure. From the creative budgeting, to romantic weekends spent in a cold garage, it's been interesting to say the least.
You see, the co-driver seat was never intended to be mine. Our son, Zachary, was always supposed to navigate. After his passing, it fell to me. After all, Team Finn only consisted of three members. I owed it to him, and to Dan, to step up and do my best. But it was a bittersweet acceptance. As much as I loved riding shotgun on this, I would have much preferred to be cheering for my two favorite guys. Unfortunately, that wasn't the path we were sent down. So we carried on as best we could, with Zach watching over us. A rally guardian angel, if you will. 
Sandblast Rally was always in our top choices for our first event. It was the first stage rally we ever attended (as crew) so it held a special place for us. The conditions seemed great for first timers as well. And so it was decided. 
After completing all the requirements to race (physicals, licenses, logbooks, etc.) we were on our way. 
Since South Carolina is roughly a 12 hour drive from Michigan, we decided to leave a day early, just in case, and hit the road Wednesday morning. That ended up being a very wise decision, since Thursday brought brutal winter weather to nearly every state along our route. That would have been sketchy for us with a 2WD tow vehicle. Plus, it gave us an extra day to prepare, so as not to feel rushed. 
We arrived in Cheraw around noon on Thursday. Shortly after, we headed over to rally headquarters to give them a hand setting up registration. By Thursday evening, I held in my hand my first official set of stage notes. 

These were to become my Bibles for the weekend. I would study them, and treat them with due reverence. If you're not familiar with rally notes, let me explain. In rally, each car has the driver (his job is pretty obvious) and a co-driver. The co-driver (or navigator) has to tell the driver what to to, where to go, and more. You are given a book of Stage Notes, which you read during the race to direct the driver of what is ahead. Turns, cautions, jumps, etc. These are written in what I refer to as Rally Hieroglyphics, but are actually called Jemba notes. They look like this:

The second and smaller book is a Road Book. In this, you have your transits. Directions guiding you from stage to stage, to services, and eventually, to your finish location. This is crucial. You have a limited time to arrive to your destination, and getting lost on transit could cost you penalties, which can result in poor finishes overall. So you have to pay close attention to your Road Book. This book is written in Tulips. No, not the flower. Tulips are a form of directions that are very basic. They look like this:

You're told your mileage, the arrow points the direction, and you are given the road name, or a point of reference. Easy peasy, right? 
So Friday began with a Novice Orientation class, where you're taught the basics of what you need to know. Safety, rules, and so on. After that, we headed straight to Scrutineering (otherwise known as Tech) to have the car and our gear looked over to ensure it met all of the requirements. We passed that, and off we went to Shakedown. Shakedown is essentially a small section of road that is similar in conditions to what you will find once on stage. It gives teams the opportunity to test the car and make any last minute tweaks or changes to suspension, tires, or whatever else. For us, it was our first time in real stage conditions. Full safety gear on, reading notes, and running at stage paces. 

Team Finn at Shakedown. Photo courtesy of M.Campbell Photography.

It felt good. Dan ran at what I would call a less than "taking it easy" pace, but we had no issues, and the notes were spot on. We made two passes, took a break, and intended on running more, but time ran out before we could. From Shakedown, we drove into downtown Chesterfield for Friday night Parc Expose. This is essentially a car show. All the competitors park the cars, hang out, and talk to locals, fans, and other competitors. After a couple hours of this, we headed to dinner (thanks Matt) before we went back to the hotel for some last minute Stage Note work and a good nights sleep before the big day.
Saturday morning brought sunshine and better weather. We suited up, and headed back into Chesterfield for more Parc Expose and a drivers meeting before the start.

At this point, I was feeling nervous, but less so than I expected. Dan was just fine. (Go figure.) After lots of laughs, some last minute note changes (thanks Liz!) and hugs from our crew and friends, we hopped in the car and lined up. 
The countdown had begun. This was it.... we were really doing this. I sent a little silent message to our guardian angel, and in no time we were off. 
First 2 stages went as smoothly as they could have. Dan was flawless, and I was not quite flawless, but finding my rhythm. After Stage 2, we headed in for our first service. After removing a child's sandbox from our wheels, hitting the bathrooms, and chatting with our awesome crew, we headed back out for Stage 3. Aside from a close call with a tree, we were still doing well, and putting in great stage times. By Stage 4, Dan was driving like an old pro. I still wasn't feeling super confident in my note reading, but he told me I was doing great, which helped. After Stage 4, we headed in for a quick fuel only service, and were back out to Stage 5. At the start of Stage 5, we encountered some delays, due to a biker having gone down and being injured. This shook me a bit, especially since, at the time, no one had much information on how he was doing. This stage was also the one that had received a substantial route change, and we had very little notes for that portion. We had already run it from one direction (changes had been at the end) but this was the reverse, which put the note changes at the beginning, and could potentially mess me up for the remainder of the stage. After the replacement ambulance arrived, the cars were back on stage. Dan did great, but the route changes definitely made me stumble. It took me a bit to get back on track, and to say the least, I was flustered. I was grateful to be headed back in for a long service to try to shake off my frustration. After a quick bite to eat, another sandbox removal, and some socializing, we headed back out for Stage 6. This stage was a complete fail for me. I had a few pages stick together in my book (damn sweaty hands) and it took me nearly to the end of the stage to get back on track. Add to that the fact that the sun was at the "You don't need to see right now." point of sunset, and Dan drove that stage blind on all counts. I have no idea how he managed to keep us on course, but I clearly owe him massive sexual favors for that one. 

On stage photo of Team Finn, courtesy of M.Campbell Photography.

 At this point, I'm very frustrated with myself. Dan (bless his heart) kept telling me it was fine, and was very encouraging, but I knew better. I had been less than stellar for the previous two stages. We pulled into the time control for the final stage, and encountered another delay. This gave us some time to allow the sun to set, and for us to chat with other competitors. There were many DNFs (did not finish) at this point. Many of them seasoned racers. With my confidence dwindling, and us with only one stage left to go, I was feeling some pressure. I needed to get my shit together on this one. This stage was filled with tight turns, and one bad note or mistake could cost us the whole race. We had come into this with only one major goal, and that was just to finish. We were so close. Delay over, and cars were back in line. I sent yet another silent message out to Zach to keep an eye on us, and I took a deep breath and tried to get out of my own head. The final stage was insane. It got dark FAST, and we quickly learned our one small light bar was not enough. Dan was flying, and even though my notes were on, we still came into a "dip" way too hot, sending the front end in HARD and launching us into the air. The gravel that rained down seemed to be in slow motion as we waited to see smoke from a busted radiator and front end. In what felt like forever, but was probably less than 3 seconds, Dan assessed our damage (or lack thereof) and we were back at it. After passing a fellow competitor on stage, we crossed the final finish. The emotions hit me like a train at full speed. I managed to hold it together (mostly) long enough to transit to our finish, but when we pulled in for the final time control and saw our crew & friends standing there cheering for us with huge smiles.... I lost it. That moment will forever be ingrained in my memory. 
(I wish I had held it together just a few moments longer though, because unfortunately, that last time control cost us big time. Some false information and our lack of experience ended up costing us a 4 minute penalty, as I discovered later on. But I don't want to get into that. I'm still a little salty about it.)
We had finished. We achieved what we had set out to do, and I was beyond thrilled. I couldn't stop the tears. My crew (and some others) engulfed me in a huge group hug and it was at that moment that I knew we had made Zach proud. It's an overwhelming feeling that I cannot describe. Bittersweet, raw emotion. 
After the awards dinner, we headed back to our hotel, high on adrenaline and feeling a little bit like rock stars. The next morning, we loaded up and went to lunch with our crew, before hitting the road for the long haul back home. 

My favorite picture from the weekend, with our AMAZING crew.  Courtesy of M.Campbell Photography.

It's now Tuesday. The rally high is gone, and the rally hangover is fading, and yet, it all still feels a little unreal to me. Like it was all a dream, and I'm still waiting to wake up at any moment. I still can't believe that we did it. When we began this journey, it felt nearly impossible. Like one of those bucket list items that you hope happens, but know might never be accomplished. But we did it. The road that brought us to this point was by far more difficult and rough than any rally stage you could throw at us. We fought our way back from the edge of despair, and we made Zach's dream a reality. And this is just the beginning....