Posted by Rita Beauchamp Nelson on Sunday, December 31, 2017

That’s what it has come down to – HYN.  I guess everything is abbreviated these days, IOU, RFLMAO, POTUS, FLOTUS, ACLU, CEO, CFO, HTTP, XMAS, LOL, TTYL, U, R. It almost looks like the original Hebrew language which didn’t have any vowels. If we ever get to the point where everything is abbreviated like that how will we speak? I can see that we could say POTUS or FLOTUS, but how would you pronounce HTTP? Or RFLMAO? Or TTYL? I think it would sound sort of like Hatetep, reflmow, and tetyl. And so maybe in a hundred years we will not be speaking English by TAEL (The Abbreviated English Language).  Sigh.  But then, why should I be surprised? We already say “ta” for “to” and drop the final “g” on “going “or “flying” and many other ending in “g” words . And then we combine words like “want to” becomes “wanna,” and “going to” becomes “gonna.” So, I wanna wish you a HNY and then I’m goin ta bed. TTYL.


History means “finding out” from the Greek historia. I’ve found out my former twenty-something body is history. I’ve found out my hair follicles are packing up and abandoning my scalp in alarming numbers. I should be bald by morning. I’ve found out my upper eyelids are sagging, trying to mate with my lower eyelids for no good reason. I’ll be blind if they hookup.

Image result for sagging eyelids image




I’ve found out my nasal passages are collapsing and I snore loud enough to wake the dog, the dead, and God. I’ve found out my once well-formed lips are kissing my esophagus. I can no longer find my upper lip to apply lipstick.

I’ve found out my perky girls have taken a trip south of the border, below my knees.

Saggy boobs

All I have to do is lift my skirt to slip on my bra. My sight and hearing are gradually joining the ranks of history. Who are you? What did you say? I’ve found out all my fat cells are attending a convention in a conference center called The Abdomen, nicknamed The Belly. Breakout rooms are in my butt, lovingly referred to as the two lower cheeks.

I’ve found out the sensation in my lower legs is history, appropriately filed under “N” for “Neuropathy” in the Library of Congress. Doctors tell me my hips and knees are okay, but someday they’ll be history, replaced with titanium parts that will eventually be found rattling around in my cremains. Sadly, my bladder muscles are history, now requiring me to plan every journey from toilet location to toilet location. My tonsils, gallbladder, appendix, uterus, and ovaries are history, leaving me one by one, presumably to visit the annals of history wherever the hell that is. I’m almost empty inside. I’m caving in outside. And as for having sex? That is ancient history.


My heart is saddened and sickened by the violence and hatred witnessed this past weekend in Charlottesville, VA. There are no words to express my horror at these turn of events. Here. In America. In a place where diversity forged this nation.  Where diversity still forges the future of this nation.  I understand that as immigrants fled persecution in Europe and came to America, many native Americans suffered and that is a horrifying consequence of occupation. I understand that to the end of amassing great individual wealth, slavery was an accepted, even promoted, tool. We were wrong in our approaches to these abuses, and if we could repeat the past perhaps we would have done it right.  Made peace. Not enslaved people. Loved each other. Gotten along. Merged together as one nation. But, history is like that – you can’t go back.  You can’t change it. You can’t make a wrong right or change a thing. You can, however, learn from history.  If we let these people so filled with hate continue on their path, this great nation is headed for a Hitler-style Germany where only the select white are acceptable. How many millions will die? Latinos? Jews? Blacks? Middle-Easterners? Gays? Transgender? Lesbians? Men, women, and children of every race other than “white.” Do you see where this going?  We cannot allow this to happen. Our nation and governance must do everything in their power to shut down this evil. We must each speak up and speak out against these haters. These evil ones. These instruments of the devil. I know, I know, they have freedom of speech.  Let them speak out from jail. I know, I know they have the freedom to gather, to protest, to speak their minds. Let them gather in the exercise yard in jail. They must be contained. They must be stopped. What we don’t have in this country is a right to injure another person, either physically, psychologically, or emotionally, and these hatred-filled espousers of white supremacy are hurting people and hurting our country.


And, if you don’t believe me, watch this!

Awareness, Announcement, Acceptance, Attitude, Aftermath

In most situations, there is an A, B, C list of instructions on how to do what.  In being a parent and discovering your child is transgender, I like to think there are several phases.  We all have heard about SARA – Shock, Anger, Rejection, and Acceptance at an unwanted event or death.  I prefer to think of discovering our child is transgender in the five A’s – Awareness, Announcement, Acceptance, Attitude, Aftermath.

The awareness is when we begin to suspect that our child is different. Maybe we don’t know what to think at first – maybe they are gay, or lesbian, or a cross-dresser, or whatever. The awareness is also the phase when the child themselves know that where people are pigeonholing them is not who they are, regardless of what is between his or her legs. A boy says he is a girl. A girl says she is a boy. Parents need to look for early signs that their child may be transgender and be gentle with them, ask age appropriate questions, and finally allow the child to announce his or her gender.

The announcement is next: A boy might suddenly say, “Mom, I’m a girl,” or vice versa. There is always shock. Being transgender is something that happens to other people’s children, not ours. It is simply human nature. When we take our baby home from the birthing place, we expect the gender will remain the declared gender at birth. Today, more and more we know that is not necessarily so, but still…

Acceptance of having a transgender child will come at the pace appropriate for both the child (or adult) and the parent. For many, especially fathers I have found, this can take a very long time.  Learning new pronouns, seeing your very masculine son show up for dinner in a mini skirt and high heels, or your very feminine daughter show up in a tie and suit with a short haircut takes massive adjustment. And, it takes a strong attitude adjustment on the part of everyone. The parents, of course, but also the transgender child who must learn that acceptance by not only family, but friends and even strangers is not automatic and can take years.

A positive attitude is key. Everyone involved will have to develop an attitude of deep patience and forbearance. An attitude of listening, learning, and loving. Unfortunately, there are many parents, families, and friends with a negative attitude who turn their backs on their transgender child. Hopefully, with much love, understanding, and education all of these children will be held closely and with respect within the family and our society.

Finally, there is the aftermath of being transgender and living with a transgender person.  You’ve always called “her” “him.” Your son has a very masculine body and now has boobs and wears skirts and makeup.  Your son’s voice is a girl’s high pitched voice. Names are changed. Many differences.  But, the most disturbing aftermath is the discrimination, the bullying, and the violence they suffer. One person told my daughter she should die. Transgender folks are murdered at an alarming rate. Suicide is high among them.  They are picked on, profiled, and persecuted. It must stop.

My book, Always Kristen, chronicles my journey through the five A’s and beyond and is available at in paperback and on Kindle.

Always Kristen

It is finished. It is published. What, you say?  Ah yes,  my memoir about my transgendered daughter, Kristen, and our up and down journey to acceptance.  A friend, who recently read the book, commented, “But your journey is ongoing.” Indeed it is, for a variety of reasons.

Here is a sampling of reviews on where you can get the book (Kindle version out soon):

I received this book in the mail Saturday and started reading it Sunday. Couldn’t put it down except when I was crying. Finished it in one day. What a heartbreaking and also a heartwarming story. Praying for these 2 beautiful women as they continue on their journey. Much Love and God Bless. This is a must read book!

It arrived yesterday and I couldn’t put it down today until I finished it. Wonderful read that shows us a mother’s love has no limits. This book had me in tears numerous times.

This a remarkable story that brought me to tears more than once. The unconditional love of a mother for her transgender child and the heart wrenching, emotionally charged twists and turns of their lives.
It is a must read.

I read the entire book the day it arrived. It is a very compelling story…and as the journey of this family continues, I wish them well. I found myself saying “WOW” as I tried to comprehend all that they’ve been through together.

Red Balls of Fire

Remember “Wrong Dog?” [See May 2015] Grand Champion Maltese, Loki? Looking for a bitch to mate? Well he nearly missed the joy of fatherhood. In October 2015, he had hernia surgery. No big deal.  However, when we picked him up, he had two fire-engine red balls. I almost fainted. Did they destroy his balls? Was he sterile? Had they ruined him for life? How did this happen?

They didn’t know. Really? It was decided we would have his sperm tested to see if it was, well you know, still, ahem viable, swimming around. Perky. But, we had to wait 60 days for them to regroup after being nearly seared to death. Sixty days later, big balls test. They took Loki into the back to do their thing, whatever that means. I wasn’t asking.  I did wonder if his sperm was collected by hand or by a machine to do the deed.  Sorry, I’m curious. Half hour later the technician came out and asked if we had ever bred him? No, why? Just asking. And she disappeared. Another half hour, the vet came out.  They couldn’t collect a sample.  They couldn’t “excite” him enough to “collect” anything. Even with the scent of a bitch in heat under his nose. Oh God, I thought. We have a gay dog. They suggested we bring Loki back for a retry when they had a bitch in heat. Never happened.  In the summer of 2016, a breeder called and wanted to use Loki as a stud. Okay, but he might not be able to well, er, perform. They took a chance on him. He stayed with the breeder for ten days, and totally ignored the bitch.  Damn. Gay dog. The breeder, undaunted, somehow inseminated the bitch. I didn’t ask how. Success, three healthy puppies. But, he still might be gay.

There You Have It

Well, there you have it.  Donald John Trump is our 45th President of the United States.  I was devastated when he won because I so wanted a woman in the Oval Office.  And, because I didn’t believe all the propaganda about Hillary.  I also wanted Hillary to win because I believe Donald Trump is not a man of the moral fiber I want as my President.

But, there you have it.  He is the President.  Like it or not.  No going back.  A recount failed, and that’s about $5,000,000 that might have been better spent on affordable housing or feeding the hungry.  The electorate didn’t have a landslide of “rogue” voters.  It is a done deal.  Many are saying, “Get over it,” or “Move on,” or “Deal with it.”

Okay, I’m willing to deal with it, but I may never get over it.  And, I will move on. I will read my constitution so I will know when DJT violates it.  Then I will hold him accountable.  I will also have to listen to his press conferences and follow his Executive whatevers.  Not that I want to – I don’t.  I really don’t ever want to see his face on TV or hear his voice on the radio.  I don’t want to read column after column on what he’s doing.  But, I will.  I need to be informed.  I need to know what he thinking, doing, attempting, everything, every day.

So, I will listen to his speeches, his press conferences, his radio voice, anything, anywhere I can get my hands on what this man is doing.  Because, if I don’t I have no leg to stand on when life in America goes south due to this man’s actions.  And, I urge you to do the same.  We must be united.  DJT won this election because he practiced the rule “Divide and conquer.”  He divided Americans as no other politician has in maybe decades.  He conquered the electoral vote, not the popular vote.  He won.

So folks, united we stand, divided we fall.  See all those people in the above photo? Let’s all unite to hold the man walking to be sworn in as the 45th President accountable for everything he does.  And, when he fails to do anything, anything that is not in the best interests of all Americans,  we must, as a united front, call him on it and not let him get away with it.  And, when I say “all,” I don’t just mean those who voted for Hillary, or Johnson, or Stein, but ALL people in America, even those who didn’t vote for anyone or voted for Trump.  We must be vigilant, we must guarantee that the values and freedoms we hold dear as Americans are upheld.  I know we can do it.  So, let’s get started.


Scary, Scary Times

I voted for Hillary.  While I know she was part of the establishment, but there was simply no way I could ever vote for DJT.  Never. No way. Ever.

For me these are going to be scary, scary times.  Consider the CEO of Exxon being considered for Secretary of State who has “relations” with Putin.  Consider the number of Generals selected for Cabinet posts.  Sound like a coup a brewing?  Maybe.  So, I came across this advice on the web, and I am going to try and follow it and then, pray, pray, pray harder, and hope our Republic survives.

Ten Things we can do when Trump is President


Evan McMullin (Former CIA agent)

  1. Read and learn the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. Know that our basic rights are inalienable.
  2. Identify and follow many credible sources of news. Be very well informed and learn to discern truth from untruth.
  3. Watch every word, decision and action of Trump and his administration extremely closely, like we have never done before in America.
  4. Be very vocal in every forum available to us when we observe Trump’s violations of our rights and our democracy. Write, speak, act.

  1. Support journalists, artists, academics, clergy and others who speak truth and who inform, inspire and unite us.
  2. Build bridges with Americans from the other side of the traditional political spectrum and with members of diverse American communities.
  3. Defend others who may be threatened by Trump even if they don’t look, think or believe like us. An attack on one is an attack on all.
  4. Organize online and in person with other Americans who understand the danger Trump poses and who are also willing to speak up.
  5. Hold members of Congress accountable for protecting our rights and democracy through elections and by making public demands of them now.

  1. And finally, in the words of Abraham Lincoln, have “malice toward none, with charity for all” and never ever lose hope!

When You Say Nothing At All

When You Say Nothing At All is a sweet sentimental song I heard the other day.  Your smile. The truth in your eyes. Your touch. Almost made me want to cry. Well, maybe.  Like when I was young and the hormones were raging, romance was blooming, and all was right with the world.  No words needed. Sigh.

Image result for image two lovers gazing at each other

Fast forward. My spouse is almost 84.  I’m 77.  We’re way beyond romantic, gaze-in-your-eyes crap.  Depending on the day, I may want him say nothing at all. Like, shut up and leave me alone nothing. Or I may want him to say something – something brilliant.Image result for old couple yelling at each other

These days, however, our conversations approach near lunacy.  “When are we going to the theatre?” he asks.  “I just told you this morning it’s tonight.”  “No, you didn’t.”  “Yes dear, I did.” “Did not.” “Did too.”  “Did not.” “Did too.” We are transported back to third grade recess. Na-na-na-na-nah. Perhaps I should say nothing at all.

Image result for third grade kids arguing

I mean really, he either doesn’t hear me, doesn’t want to hear me, doesn’t remember hearing me, or has completely gone over the edge. Worse, he will say, “Remember I told you I invited Sam for dinner tonight?”  “What? Are you kidding me, you never mentioned it.” He says, “Yes, I did. I think you’re losing your memory.”  “Really? Well, let me remind you that I am 6 ½ years younger than you and have way more memory left.” He says, “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you?”  “Well, then get hearing aids. I have mine on.” He shouts “Well, they aren’t working very well.” “Are too.” “Are not.”  “Are too.” “Are not.” Nah-na-na-na-nah.

Image result for hearing problems images

And so it goes.  And trust me, even if I used sign language, I guarantee something would be lost in the translation. He’d probably say, “Something’s wrong with your fingers, and stop pointing at me.”  You know, to maintain our sanity and our marriage, we probably both should just say nothing at all.

Image result for old couple yelling at each other


It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart
Without saying a word you can light up the dark
Try as I may I could never explain
What I hear when you don’t say a thing

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

All day long I can hear people talking out loud
But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd
Old Mr. Webster could never define
What’s being said between your heart and mine

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

Potty Parity

I can remember oh, way back in the 1980’s when women were screaming about “potty parity.”  “Why don’t we have more stall in our public facilities?”

“It isn’t fair.  Men have the same number of stalls, but us women go to the bathroom in much greater numbers. We have to wait for—ever, like because well, um, er just because.”

Image result for man looking into bathroom stallWe need more stalls.”

Well, the upshot was we women got more stalls.  We still have to wait in long lines.  What’s up? My theory is men have bigger bladders so they don’t have to “go” as often.  Why?  Simple.  They were out there in the wilds being hunter gatherers and needed to hold “it” longer.

Furthermore, they have these things called urinals which hastens the pee time to practically nil.  In, unzip, pee, shake, zip, out the door. And I seriously doubt men ever wash their hands.  Ever. Really? Who knows for sure, but that’s my story and…you know the rest.

Today, we have a different kind of potty parity being parlayed throughout the land.  Okay, not the entire land, but a big part of the land.  It’s called the “Bathroom Law.”  I call it potty dis-parity, for lack of a better word.  By now everyone in the world has heard about it. It’s the law that says a pre-operation transgender person must use the public restroom of their genetic, or biological gender.

The reason behind this law is rather, uh, stupid.  A group of supposedly intelligent legislators decided that if a transgender male to female used the female bathroom his hormones might rise to unimagined levels and he might rape a girl.  They threw in women’s locker rooms to protect college athletes.  Mind you, this has never happened.  Ever.

The flip side of this law is a female to male tranny might what? Go into the men’s room and seduce a man?  This has never happened either.  So imagine this…you will see what appears to be a woman walking into a men’s room, past the urinals, and into the stall to pee, come out, wash her hands, and leave. And, you will see what appears to be a male walking into a woman’s room, standing in line with everyone else, finally getting a stall, peeing, and leaving.  Remember, men don’t wash hands.

The most logical next question is this: How or who is going to check these trannie genitals?  Will there be a guard at the doors who will ask each person to pull up his or her dress, or drop his or her drawers, pull down that thong or undie for a “G-check?”  That’s “Genital-check.”

Image result for man looking into bathroom stall

Perhaps they will have special staff who do nothing but go around looking under or over stall doors for compliance.

Maybe they will install hidden cameras in every stall to take a peek as the task is being accomplished.  Maybe there will be foot sensors on the floor that will determine if a “woman” is peeing with her shoes facing toward the back rather than the front.  Come on.  Am I the only one who sees the inherent insanity in this whole bathroom law?

Why should I care?  Because I am the mother of a transgender male to female, and I understand the implications of gender dysphoria.  These people aren’t kidding you.  This isn’t some condition that can be cured, or turned on or off.  This is real.  These people while genetically one gender, are psychologically the opposite gender.  To force them into a bathroom not of their psychological gender is an embarrassing and debasing situation.  Think about it.  If you as a genetic male were suddenly forced to use the ladies room how would you feel?  Or you, as a genetic female were forced to use the men’s room, how would you feel?  Listen stupid, trannies feel exactly the same way.  Because it isn’t about what’s between your legs, it’s about what’s in your heart and head.

To all ignorant legislators who either have already passed this inane law, please repeal it.  And, if you are even thinking about passing such a law, forget about it. There is a simple answer.  Make all our restrooms unisex.  Eliminate those nasty urinals, put in extra stalls, and you’ll for sure have potty parity, not dis-parity.

Restrooms > Gender Neutral > Sign