Sexually delicate territories

The best time to talk to your nine-year-old boy about women’s plumbing and these sorts of sexually delicate territories is when he’s asleep. This is what every trying father discovers after said boy lays splayed on the living room floor pretending he’s having a baby. Yes, my son Jon was in obvious pain – it seems no epidural …

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Why I support a longer school day

It’s dinner time and once again the kids just HAVE to talk about sex, which is quite remarkable considering the only Miley Cyrus they watch is from the days when she was a fully-clothed Hannah Montana who kept her tongue to herself. Of course, the best way to end any kids’ sex talk is to …

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On mini-skirts and Love (is our highest calling)

The newspaper, one of Uganda’s national dailies, is open on my desk. “What are you reading?” asks Liz. “A story about a new law.” I don’t elaborate. The story says Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni may soon meet with U.S. scientists on the matter of homosexuality and its causes. Museveni signed Uganda’s new draconian anti-gay law recently after …

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Let’s talk about sex. (And fear and politics and phoney religion too)

“Hey, let’s talk about sex!” I said. I couldn’t help it. It was at the dinner table yesterday evening and Mom wasn’t there and it just sort of tumbled out.  You know, like “Hey, pass the carrots, will ya?” Now, sure, I know my kids are sort of young. But I’ve already had some pretty …

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I’m a gay Ugandan. Now what?

The talk was this afternoon when I was getting my hair cut. It was on the same topic as it was at this morning’s coffee at my kids’ school. And the same as last night while with a friend outside our Ugandan house. It was about Uganda’s new anti-gay law. Last night, near the house, my 10-year-old daughter came up to …

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This Valentine’s Day, fall in love with the One who knows you

(The UCU Standard – Monday, February 3, 2014)

MUKONO, UGANDA ✦ It’s soon Valentine’s Day and you’re alone.

The flowers are out there and so is the wine, and much more. One would have to be blind and half-dead not to notice. But you’re alone, a rose in the parched dessert, and you don’t know how much longer you can hang on.

On anniversaries and a medley of “summer love”

(Hamilton Spectator – Friday, July 26, 2013)

Love has always been one of those loaded words, one that means everything and nothing at the same time because we can love the latest Bond movie or country music or summer rain, but this has nothing to do with summer love at, say, a July wedding, or the love that shows on the faces of a couple who have sailed through thick and thin.

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