honesty
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I do not know. I just feel like a lot of people are carrying more than they let on right now. You can hear it when you talk to them. Even when they say they are fine, there is something underneath it. For me, taking care of myself has stopped being a big idea. It…
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Morning light. Quiet house. Everything exactly where it should be. It’s six in the morning and I’m lying here listening to my grandsons sleeping at the foot of the bed. They probably stayed up later than they should have, but we were having too much fun to care. Life doesn’t really prepare you for what…
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I waited until Christmas was over to say this, because some things need room and the right moment to be said. As a son, a father, and a grandfather, I have been sitting with what has unfolded over these past weeks. The continued revelations surrounding the Epstein case, and the effort to minimize or obscure…
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Why do I write is a question I get from time to time. Most people assume it is for money. It is not. Writing has never been a good way to make money anyway, and I already have what I need in this life. I am grateful for that. I am not chasing more. Some…
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You will often hear that Christmas should not be celebrated because it was “originally pagan,” tied to the Roman sun god Sol. Like most things involving history, the truth is more layered than a meme allows. Jesus was almost certainly not born in December. Most scholars agree that date was chosen later for symbolic reasons,…
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I left the United States eight years ago. People ask me why, and the answer is simple. Until you are part of a minority that is under attack, it is hard to understand what it feels like to wake up every day in that kind of world. You learn to live with a weight in…
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To be a gay father raising three children in the nineties was to live in quiet. Only the closest people to me knew the truth, because protecting my children mattered more than my own openness. I came out at twenty-nine, but even then it was carefully measured, told only to those who needed to know.…
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The world is restless.The walls speak in riddles of decline.I have lived enough unfairnessto know it rarely gives back what it steals. But I am not alone.I sit in the quiet with Rick’s laughterstill echoing in the room,a thread of warmth that refuses to break.Happiness is not a thunderclap.It is the brush of his hand…
Steven LaChance Blog 