When I was a kid, one of my favorite shows was F-Troop, about a wacky cavalry troop based in a fort in the middle of Indian country. (Really.) The opening credits showed one of the main characters getting busted, his stripes ripped from the shoulder of his uniform. I want to F-Troop two parents I heard about yesterday, and rip the “P” from their uniforms.

The occasion was the annual luncheon honoring recipients of the Yoshiyama Awards for Exemplary Service to the Community, presented by The Hitachi Foundation, a client of ours. One of the recipients is a young gay man who is an advocate on behalf of LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer) youth in a community where hate violence has resulted in two deaths. He spoke about how his parents rejected him when he came out as a high school freshman because they don’t like “people like me.” He talked, with pain, about how he had no idea if his parents are proud of him for receiving this prestigious award, which includes a no-strings check for $5,000 — because they don’t like “people like me.”

Those “people like me” include their son. I’d like to F-Troop these parents. Maybe hit them upside the head.

I don’t care what my children “are” or “become.” I just care that they do become.

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