I’ve been packing my life into boxes. Sorting through things I wish to keep and things I wish to leave behind. Many items are easy decisions, but some tug at my heart. The choice is painful, but I must let some things go.
There is something freeing about reducing your possessions into what you can fit into your car… and a 10x10 storage unit. Books in stacks, flight gear, study materials I accumulated for a life of flying in the military. Old notebooks I probably should have thrown away, but I can’t bring myself to do it. My house echoes differently now. The walls are mostly bare, the house creaks differently as I walk through it. I suppose it’s going through it’s own transition. Does a house lose its memories when someone leaves?
Selling everything and moving to Texas sounds bold. And for an emerging standup comedian it sounds cliché. “I’m moving to Austin to go all in on comedy”. I wonder how many times that phrase has been said? I know from watching Kill Tony, the famous YouTube comedy show that started all this, it’s said by many who appear on that stage.
In reality, it’s paperwork, spreadsheets, real estate agents, home appraisals and inspections, and a lot of packing tape. It’s deciding which coffee mug of my 10 mug collection do I take with me, store, or throw out? For me it’s anxiety trying to go from a four-bedroom house down to what I can fit in my car (and the storage unit). It’s making sure reservations for local uhauls, people who agreed to take large items, and dismantling a skateboard mini-ramp fill my head. It will all fall into place, but the road can be bumpy. It’s already had it’s ups and downs.
It’s another crosswind.
In aviation crosswinds aren’t always dramatic gusts. They are also steady forces that push you off-center while trying to fly a course to a destination, or while on approach to land. You don’t make sudden aggressive movements to combat them, instead you correct for them gently using small inputs, patience, discipline, and holding true to your course.
The last two years have been crosswinds. Major gusts and steady pressures. Public noise, career whiplash, and saying yes all too often. Learning my limits the hard way while building something new and grieving what was lost.
And just as I was sealing another box this week, a small box arrived in the mail.
It was from my mother.
Inside was a women’s necklace. A gift. Pretty and feminine. The kind of gift that says “I see you”. Or maybe “I’m trying”. Both my parents have struggled with my gender transition.
Change is rarely loud when it matters most. People assume the big shift might be selling my house, moving to Texas, becoming a standup comedian. And they would be right. That’s the visible arc, the headline.
But the real change is quiet and personal. Almost a whisper. Like a mother subtly acknowledging her child as “Jo” and as something other than male. Would it be too bold to say she was acknowledging her daughter? I dare not make that assumption. I fear it could jinx what is already happening between the lines.
It’s no secret my parents raised me in their Christian conservative home. I’m pretty sure they voted for Trump more than once. And yet I never closed the door. I love them. I know they love me. And I wouldn’t be who I am today without them. And I mean that in a good way.
As I prepare to drive west there’s no guarantee this will help repair the world, but I’m annoyingly optimistic.
“If you see something that needs to be repaired, it is because you are meant to repair it. But if you see only what is wrong and find no way to fix it, then it is you who needs repair.” - Menachem Mendel Schneerson
Crosswinds are not about chaos or impulsive decisions. They are about correction. You don’t wait for the winds to stop, you adjust and continue to your destination.
Texas is an adjustment. Comedy is an adjustment. Building a second life after everything being turned upside down is an adjustment. And sometimes a correction comes in the form of a thoughtful gift from your mother, addressed to your chosen name, with a token inside that speaks volumes.
If you’ve found me recently through a headline, podcast, or comedy stage — understand this: There are forces that will try to influence you, push you, and take you off course. It takes constant correction, vigilance, and grit to hold true to yourself. It’s not grand gestures, but small inputs everyday that keep you on course.
I don’t know what Austin will bring. It won’t be easy. I will make mistakes.
But I’m leaving with something I didn’t have before.
A women’s necklace addressed to Jo.
— Jo
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