Sometimes You Don’t Know

It’s been a while since I’ve written. Perhaps I felt that nothing could top the Obama-Rama experience or the passion with which we are fighting Prop 8 and it’s repercussions here in CA. I honestly didn’t think anyone would notice if I took a writing vacation; I have been overwhelmed with comments proving the opposite. People are actually reading this thing.

And what a perfect segue to the topic I’d like to discuss right now: Impressions You Didn’t Know You Left.

Three times in one week, I have been reminded that I do make an impact. In separate and completely unsolicited circumstances, I have thrice been extremely touched by folks I rarely see. These people reminded me that when I feel down, and like I am insignificant or am not doing enough to make an impact on the world around me- that in fact I will sometimes never know the impressions I leave. I have to keep faith that someone is reading, someone is remembering, and someone is celebrating me.

Before I go on, I’d like to pause and avoid the “self-aggrandizing” reaction. I do not write this so that anyone reading will say “awww, Janelle… I think you’re great!.” I write this to say thank you to those who have helped me remember that I do have a responsibility to continue doing what I am passionate about. I write this to remind anyone who is reading that when they are down in the dumps, they might consider taking a bit of solace- someone has been touched by them.

Story One: Eating, Praying, Loving

The first story is about a woman I met when I was in Ohio. She is twice my age, lives alone, loves cats, and is just plain nice. When I met her- I could see through her forced pep and spark and knew that deep down, she was unhappy. She had a well-paying job that she hated, but it paid the bills. She was active and well-known in the community, but sought companionship. She was still afraid of her mother’s disapproval (does that ever go away?)

When I arrived at her doorstep one October day, I was in the middle of a journey. I had just quit my job. I had just challenged myself to follow my dreams and my passions. I had just read Eat, Pray, Love . I was the epitome of free spirit and cheerleader of the dream-followers. My Ohio friend noticed this, but never said anything specifically other than that she enjoyed working with me on such a historic project.

I received a call from her last week out of the blue. Something compelled me to pick up the phone, though I had not spoken to her in weeks and was not particularly “close” to her. Perhaps she dialed my number on accident? I picked up and said a surprised hello! My friend shared with me that she was going to quit her job. That she had saved enough money to last her six months and that she was going to pursue her passion of writing grants for non-profits. She was finally going to do it. She wanted the name of the books I had read to help me along my journey. She wanted to ask me how I got up the nerve to do it.

I was so touched that she thought of me. So touched that she was inspired by my story and that it helped her (in some small way) to take her future into her hands. I am so proud of her and so happy to know I could cheer her along in her journey. I never knew that the leap I was taking- and it was a difficult one- would give someone else a nudge over their own obstacles to happiness. What a gift to have the opportunity to know I made a difference for her.

Story Two: Me Too

On Facebook, there is something called the “people you may know.” Based on mutual friends, the computer suggests opening a line of communication with someone you may know. I added one individual after realizing we went to school together but barely spoke. Today, I get a message from this individual and we begin to chat online. He joined the Army after graduation. He is in Iraq. A soldier of war. I imagine an alpha-male in fatigues dodging bullets and immediately wish him a safe and expedient journey home. I realize we have nothing else to speak about.

Then he mentions my work with GLAAD. I believe his words were “I never thought you’d work THERE.” I question him about this. Did he mean he didn’t think that I’d work on behalf of the LGBT community? Was he secretly trying to ask me whether or not I am gay?

I begin to puff up and prepare for the predictable “so you defend fags?” or “I thought you had a boyfriend?” comments that usually follow this line of questioning. Instead… he comes out to me. He is gay. He is a gay soldier.

Slapped me across the face. Immediately made me feel guilty for assuming the worst. He’s across the world defending my right to protest in the streets and he can’t even be open about his sexuality because it will end his career. And he felt safe enough to share with me. He then said “you know… I don’t remember much about school. I remember a lot of kids were really mean. I remember that inside I knew I was gay and that I couldn’t face it. And I remember that you weren’t mean to me. That when my dad died, you made sure to send your condolences. That you were one of the nice ones.”

I had to fight back tears. For all the stories and memories this LGBT community has about bullies… I am just so happy to have been a voice that told him it was going to be okay. What a gift to feel that I have something in common with someone who is fighting in this war. To know that we are both fighting battles. Some are similar. Some are very different.

Story Three: My G-dson

If you’ve never heard the crazy story about my two friends Adam and Jen- then it will take too long to write about it here. Basic jist- one of my LONGtime Jewish friends ended up becoming engaged to and having children with one of my LONGtime childhood school friends. These friends were each hung out in very different circles in my life- my “school” friends vs. my “temple” friends. The only time they crossed paths was at my Bat Mitzvah over a decade ago. Crazy small world: I get a call a couple of years ago after they’ve already fallen in love and realize one night they both grew up with me.

Jen and Adam have just celebrated the first birthday of their second son, Zionn. With both of their babies, I have played the role of happy best friend who visits whenever i am back in my hometown (where this family still lives). I dote on the kids. I show up at the hospital with mounds of gifts. I bring my camera whenever I visit and spend hours snapping pics of these babies.

Mind you- both Jen and Adam come from LARGE families. Jen, in particular, is one of five sisters. Both children are lucky to be growing up with parents who are surrounded with happy, successful, loving families to support them. Suffice it to say, I was stunned and unbelievably touched this evening when they asked me to be Zionn’s G-dmother.

While I’ve known these two kids forever… and now of course love and celebrate their own two kids… I never imagined I was significant enough in their lives to be asked to fill such a role. I am so deeply touched and honored that they thought of me and that I get to be a part of their baby’s life. I know my own g-dfather has been critical in my upbringing and I hope to make them proud.

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What a gift. During this holiday season. During this economic melt-down. During a transitional time in my life… to be reminded that I have the capacity to make an impact. Have you experience something like this? I’d love to hear your stories…

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