A Phone Call

I have been following the adventures of a reluctant activist, my college friend Janice. When her wife Lisa was dying in a Miami hospital in 2007, the hospital denied Janice and Janice and Lisa's children visitation because the hospital said they weren't Lisa's next of kin. Janice and the kids filed a suit against the hospital, which was recently dismissed because there's no law requiring respect for families in Florida, and Janice has since found herself behind podiums at LGBT events all over the country, speaking about equal rights.


Yesterday I was looking around www.npr.org and found this story:

April 15, 2010

President Obama is ordering hospitals to extend visitation rights to whomever a patient designates, including same-sex partners, tying the requirement to federal funding for Medicare and Medicaid.

"Gay and lesbian Americans are often barred from the bedsides of the partners with whom they have spent decades of their lives -- unable to be there for the person they love," Obama said in a presidential memorandum.

The new visitation policy will apply to more than just same-sex partners. Under the order, patients can designate anyone -- a friend or a distant relative -- to be a surrogate decision-maker.

Hospitals that receive Medicare and Medicaid funding will be required to comply.

Gay and lesbian groups have been fighting for years to get hospital visitation rights, which vary by state.

"One person in a hospital can make a huge difference," said Dr. Jason Schneider, former president of the Gay and Lesbian Medical Association. "So I think this directive gives weight to the importance of recognizing the variety and the breadth of how people define families."

I emailed Janice and asked if she had heard about this - assuming that she had, but just in case she hadn't. This order, if it had existed three years ago, would have covered Janice and her family. This is the email I received back from Janice: "Oh yes dear. The president called me from air force one as he was issuing the memo."


I must admit that there is no part of that sentence that I do not find totally glamorous. But the really great news is that now the law is on the side of all kinds of families.

Defined By How We Treat Others

Here is an exchange of emails between me and my former high school homeroom teacher, who also taught PE. I wound up sending the email by snail mail via the Wallenberg Community Foundation.

This post is also in honor of any teachers who read this. You never know what your students are learning from you.

Hi Mr. N,

About two months ago I met another Wallenberg grad. I don't know when she graduated and she could be anywhere from 15 to 5 years younger than I (but probably around ten, though really, it's hard to tell). I don't remember her name, either, at this point.

I was telling this story about you that I sometimes tell, in which I mentioned "you by your nickname At the end of the story she asked if I'd gone to Wallenberg, and it turned out that she figured that out because I had used your nickname. My impression is that she had had you for class (as opposed to homeroom). So I've been thinking about that story and I thought perhaps I should ask you about this.

When I was in 10th grade, during the "family life" unit in PE, you brought in a panel of people from an LGB organization. I think there were three or four people, there to talk about being gay or bisexual. I think they answered questions. I don't exactly remember.

In retrospect, I think this was a pretty bold thing for you to have done. Were there even "opt out" forms in those days? Was there a lot of blowback from parents? Did you ever bring in a panel like that again?

What kills me though is to think that you had gone to all of this effort to bring these people in, and they had gone to all of the effort to come in and speak to a bunch of teenagers who may or may not have been interested, and I didn't "get it." Five years later I figured out that I wasn't straight, and it shocks me to this day that I didn't start thinking about it that afternoon. Of course, it was a different time, I may have been particularly clueless, and blah blah blah.

Though I wasn't ready or able to hear their message (other than that of tolerance, which was an easy sell for me), I wanted to thank you for bringing in that panel all those years ago.

Thanks.

Samatakah

Here is his reply, which he signed with his first name. I was not in the class he describes below; I had PE during first period that year.

Thanks so very much for the very touching note you sent.  How nice to be remembered.  You have no idea how much notes like yours are appreciated.  You don't get much feedback in teaching and it's nice to know that someone remembers you from time to time. 

I DO remember that class very vividly.  It was part of the Family Life curriculum and the group I brought in was from a district approved speakers bureau.  We HAD sent out permission slips and everyone, or their parents had the option to "opt out."  No one did. 

What I do remember was that of all the topics we covered in that six-week unit, it was the only one in which parents opted to come to.  I don't know if you were in the class that exploded, but, as I recall, it happened during the last class of the day.  

Once the speakers were finished, there was a question and answer period (you have a good memory!).  I'll never forget, G__ C__ asked the million-dollar question: How do gays "do it"?  The answer that was given was a "no holds barred" type of answer, and from then on, no question was off limits. 

Finally, at the end of the class, one of the parents (who shall remain nameless) asked me and [another teacher] why these people were here and what was the purpose of all this explicit discussion.  I meekly tried to explain that the speakers were part of an approved group of presenters and that everyone, including the principal, the parents, and the students knew for weeks exactly who these speakers were and why they were there.  Then, much to my sheer relief, S__ A__ jumped up and started screaming at the parents that we, the students, had every right to hear what these folks were saying.  That it was parents like them that were trying to hide things from us.  With that, the place exploded in support of S__, led, I think, by L__ P__.  There was chaos for what seemed like forever, but the bell finally rang and everyone left. 

Well, I was called into the [principal's] office and he said the district office had called.  He asked me what had taken place.  I told him everything from start to finish.  All he asked me was if I had provided permission slips.  When I told him I had, he said he's take care of everything - and he did.  But I'll tell you, for several weeks I was very cautious about answering the phone and opening my mail  I thought for sure I was going to be called downtown for some sort of reprimand (or worse).  But the more I thought about it, I was more and more convinced I had done the right thing. 

The whole purpose was to try to get across to kids that there were/are alternative life-styles out there and that no one should be ashamed of who they are or what sexual preferences they may have.  I wanted them to know that there are many others out there just like them and that they are not "odd."  It makes me so happy to know that for someone like you, this class may have helped you discover yourself and who you are.  We are not defined by our sexual preference, our work, or who we happened to be with.  I believe we are defined by how we treat others. 

So, thanks for the kind words.  

My First Dyke March

June 2001:


Pride was approaching and I thought I should participate. Shobi-wan and I had participated in the Pride Parade in Portland, and I had marched in the Portland and Seattle Pride Parades in the flag corps of the Rose City Gay Freedom Band (a story to be told later), but San Francisco is a lot bigger, a lot crazier, and a lot more formal than the Portland parade was when Shobi-wan and I went.


The Dyke March is traditionally anti-establishment, eschewing corporate sponsorship and march permit applications, but always follows the same route the evening before the Pride Parade. I thought it would be good to go a women's event, and who knows, maybe I would actually talk to someone. I had just recently started attending the Bi Women's Group and hadn't made real friends there yet, so I had to go alone. Which I told myself would be okay; there would be 50,000 people there and I could blend into some group.


I stood on a small rise in the center of the park, looking over thousands of women of all ages, colors, shapes, in costume or without clothing, on blankets drinking and snacking, making out, sunbathing, dancing, cheering, and greeting others with "Happy Pride!" I watched everything with some trepidation, wishing I knew some people so I could join the eating, drinking, dancing, cheering, and maybe even the making out.


A woman came up on the rise next to me, shading her hand while she was looking for her friends (this is so much easier now that texting is a common feature on cell phones!). She told me she was from Minnesota, and I said I was from here. She asked me, "How many times have you been to the Dyke March?" and I replied, "This is my first time."


"Your first time? What kind of a Dyke are you?" she teased.


"About half of one," I smiled.

True 'Nuff

Check out the January 4 Bizarro comic about pirates that strike fear into people's hearts.

Shacking Up

While I've been resting up from the strain of posting every day, I have been reading a lot. I thought Daughter of the Saints would be more concerned with the life of growing up in a polygamous family, but it turned out to be a lot more about schisms within the offshoots from the Church of Latter-Day Saints.


The thing that I wonder is why in the world the US government even cares about polygamy. I think the problem with it isn't polygamy itself, it's the marrying of young teenage girls to men several times their ages; the exclusion of teenage boys who are thrown out of the community for the smallest infractions so that they can't attach themselves to, or be attached to by, girls their own age. Certainly polygamy as it's practiced by groups like the Fundamentalist Church of Latter-Day Saints is wrong. To me, polygamy is a feminist issue. The girls and women in these LDS offshoots are treated unequally in so many ways, not the least of which is that the men hold the power and the whole point of having many wives is to have many children.


Thinking about polygamy ties right back into conversations I've been having with friends about Proposition 8. One pointed out that the problem is a semantic one around association of the word marriage with a church-based ritual and religious beliefs, and sent me a column by conservative Douglas Kmiec about breaking "marriage" from the state-issued license. This makes sense to me, though people love traditions and I don't think we'll wind up with everyone getting civil unions recognized everywhere and some people getting "married" in their places of worship and/or by clergy.


The law should protect the rights of 13 year old girls who don't want to marry (and should protect teens who do want to marry from making hasty choices). The law should protect gays and lesbians from having their relationships ignored no matter what state they are living in or visiting. Beyond that, why does the state/federal government even care about what consenting adults call their relationship?

Exhausted and Angry

Anger is exhausting. I've been trying to figure out how to talk about a conversation I had with an acquaintance on Tuesday, and I've been stuck about what to even say about it. Oddly enough, I know this guy much better now than I used to, or would otherwise, if we hadn't gotten to a point where we said that "we can respect each other even though we have differing opinions"... which is really another way to say "I don't want to talk about this anymore."


I had a long talk with KT last night and another one with YaYa Words of Thunder this afternoon. I'm feeling less wound up - at least for now - and now that I'm feeling less wound up, I've been thinking that I need to put the anger behind me. It's only hurting me. I will be behaving differently, but I need to let go of the anger so that I can do my job, enjoy hanging out with friends, and sleep at night. I have to figure out how to talk to people about this election without losing my temper.


Unlike some of my friends, I thought 8 was going to pass. And I figured if it didn't, the supporters of man/woman "traditional" marriage would be back in two or four years anyway, just as the Oregon Citizens Alliance came back in 1994 after being smacked (lightly) in the 1992 election. All I can do is talk about what I think the Constitution stands for, which is freedom to speak, freedom to assemble, and freedom to worship or not. But until I can get rid of the anger, I can't talk about the Constitution in a rational manner.


Tomorrow I'll be with friends, one of whom has promised me a soak in the hot tub and many drinks. Hopefully those three - the friends, the hot tub, and the liquor - will help me expel the anger so I can start over next week feeling happy my guy is going to be the President in January.

Two, Four, Six, Eight...

It's election day! If you are, or are like, one of the few people I know who hasn't already voted absentee, GET OUT THERE.

I am feeling fatalistic about 8 ("Eliminates right of same-sex couples to marry"), and about 4 ("Waiting period and parental notification before termination of minor's pregnancy"), which has gotten next to no attention because this season been all about 8. I got home last night and the No on 8 sign I put up yesterday is gone. I looked around to see if it had blown off in the wind, but nothing. I'm really, really disappointed in what I assume are my neighbors, because hardly anyone lives here and it's a cul de sac so the only other people around are the trashmen and paper deliverers. Disagreeing with me is one thing, but taking my voice is another.


I drove through a four-corner Yes on 8 rally on my way home. I'm feeling depressed about all this. I think Obama will win, but 4 and 8 will pass. It's so annoying and saddening to me that this is what it comes down to: The culture wars, where no one can be convinced of the opposite position, there's little or no dialogue, and people behave rudely (at best) to each other. There's something wrong about that.


I think the civil status of gay and lesbian people will change all the way in my lifetime. That's what I think about an Obama presidency: Brown v. Topeka Board of Ed was 57 years ago, Loving vs. Virginia was 41 years ago. Look at how much things have changed already for gays and lesbians since Stonewall. I'm not being complacent, I'm being hopeful and optimistic.


Which is what we have to be on Election Day.

The Personal IS Political, and Love! Love! Love!

I'd like to think everyone I know is in favor of love and opposed to Measure 8 and other "Defense of Marriage" Act-type laws. I understood why the doctrine of "separate but equal" is wrong, but not what was so "right" about being married. Then I knew I wanted to marry Zirpu and I understood why being married is so important.


I recently received this wedding announcement from two dear friends of mine, announcing their act of "civil obedience." They have given permission for me to post this beautiful letter. Hooray for love!

+++ +++ +++

Greetings,

It seems suddenly the personal has become very political, in my life. This is an unusual wedding announcement, because I'm sending it to everyone I can think of, not just family and close friends, and not even just those who recall how they know me (although I hope all of you do!) I'm delighted to announce that Michelle Greenberg, my partner of four years, and I will be getting legally married here in San Francisco (I know, we live in Oakland, but SF City Hall is MUCH prettier) this coming month. This announcement is also unusual because it's not to invite you all to the ceremony -- they only allow six attendees -- or to try to get you to send gifts. Please don't send gifts, really!!

The purpose of this announcement is to tell you how much it means to us to be able to get married, legally, as we contemplate trying to create a family together, and spending our lives together, as the life of a married couple.

Most of you are aware there's a ballot measure here in California that is trying to make unconstitutional the marriage of couples who are of the same gender. Yes, Michelle and I are the same gender. Please think of us at the polls, because for every same-sex couple out there waiting to arrive at the moment when they know their love is forever, there are two sets of wonderful, loving family, friends and acquaintances just like all of you, who can offer them their support in assuring that this right be preserved for us all to find the love of our lives and make solemn and legal the commitment we make to each other, to our communities, and to our families. Please share our story with your friends, family and acquaintances, if you feel so inspired!

For those to whom this reaches a deep, deep place in your hearts, perhaps because you are also affected by this issue, or perhaps because this issue simply speaks deeply to your personal principles, I have included a link to a website of a coalition of organizations, No on Prop 8, where donations can be made to support efforts to defeat this ballot measure. You can go to https://secure.ga4.org/01/equalityforall If you're one of those people that absolutely can't resist sending wedding gifts, consider this the best possible option, in our case!

My home state of Wisconsin passed a similar measure some years back, referred to as a DOMA, or Defense of Marriage Act, as an amendment to its constitution. As a result, I cannot move my family back to the state where my mother lives, and where I grew up, and preserve for my future spouse and our children the rights and protections conceded to us by the current laws of the State of California. I am very grateful to be able to continue my life here in California and enjoy all the rights, and carry all of the responsibilities, of other married people in loving, nurturing families here in this State. I hope someday that Wisconsin's DOMA may be repealed, and I'm sure there will be plenty of people like Michelle and me, living out their lives in Wisconsin, who will continue to fight for that greater justice. Sadly, it is so much harder to undo what has already been done, especially in the sphere of laws. I wish them courage and perseverance. And I pray (yes, pray) we do not to have to go through that ourselves, here in California.

Lastly, I write to simply tell you what great joy it gives me to announce my upcoming marriage to Michelle Hannah Greenberg, daughter of Cheryl and Dave Greenberg of Detroit, MI As far as making a family together, we'll keep you posted.....

with much love in my heart,
Margaret Stevenson

Different diffierent Same same

I didn't exactly say what I wanted to say in my last post. I got sidetracked into politics and anxiety. What I wanted to say was...


It seems that everyone has a moment or two (or years) of feeling like he or she is "the only one" about something. And then something happens where we hear each other's stories and each one realizes he or she isn't the only one who had that feeling or experienced that thing. Similar is close enough. We're all listening for something to ring the bell of familiarity.


We are so similar in our diversity. To me, that's much more comforting than it sounds.

Bi The Way - Assume Nothing

The other night at the Bi Women's Group we all told our coming out stories to each other. Everyone's story is different and yet components are the same. The resonance each of us feels when we hear someone else say, "I just thought she was so cool! I didn't know that I liked girls 'that way,' but I knew... It was in the back of my head, but I ignored it..."


My coming out as bi was initially because of politics. At the time I said to not claim being bi would be the same as denying that the love I'd felt for either Denver D or for Shobi-wan wasn't real, and that wasn't right. But because I'd gotten involved with Odyssey's diversity training and questioned that we presented homosexuality but not bisexuality, I was selected to present that view [this was part of the name it, claim it volunteerism at Odyssey]. So the first time I really came out as bi, I came out to thirty or forty staff members, and the second time to another 75 teenagers.


After all these years, I'm still primarily politically bi. I identify as bisexual because it is who I am. I know that I appear to be straight, living the life I do married to a man, so I'm always on guard that people are going to question my marriage because of the stereotypes they hold about bisexual people. That makes me afraid to come out sometimes. Say what you like about me, but don't lecture me on my marriage and don't say word ONE about my husband. I should add though that in all the years I've been coming out as bi, I've never had to say that to anyone.


That makes me glad. And it's always nice to hear parts of my story in other people's lives, and parts of theirs in mine.

Mawwage, that bwessed awwangement*

* The Princess Bride. The book is even funnier than the movie.


I was not one of those girls who planned her wedding. I never could envision myself in the white dress and the church, and in fact I remember telling Shmeen when I was in eighth grade that I would just live with a man forever rather than get married. When I came out as a lesbian, I thought maybe my lack of desire for a wedding and marriage was because of the fact that a man had to be involved.


Of course, I wound up not being a lesbian, and now a man doesn't have to be involved in a marriage, if a woman prefers a woman as her spouse.


Ten years ago I didn't understand what the big whoop was about gay marriage. Until May or June of 2002, I didn't care about marriage, and then I knew if it was to Zirpu, it was something I wanted. A lot. Davetoe told me one time that he wouldn't want to get married until everyone had the legal right to get married, but I know now (and probably knew then) that his statement was really about his not wanting to get married ever, but rather than saying so he attached it to something impossible, the way one says "when pigs fly."


Hey, what was that? Was that a bird? Did you hear an "oink"?


Now that I am married, though, I get it. I understand why marriage is important, why it's different from not being married, even if you are shacked up for 27 years. The car wreck a few months after we got married has something to do with that. It felt different to me to say to someone I needed to call my husband, as opposed to my boyfriend, my partner, my significant other. There was the feeling that my husband would always have my back, would drop everything to get out to Fresno as quickly as possible and take me home. In our wedding we said we were ready to take on the responsibility of our love, and this definitely fell under that purview.


We have been extraordinarily lucky. I shouldn't speak for Zirpu but when I hear people say "Marriage is work," I think to myself that we haven't had to work that hard. I think this is because we have mostly the same values and don't have kids upon whose raising we might disagree. We know how to allow for each other's idiosyncrasies. Also, I'm married to the best man in the world. [big grin]


There should always be room for love in the world. No one is made better by making someone else worse. There should more and more of these wedding photos and more and more of these weddings.


Do you believe in love? I do!

Wedding Crashers

Yesterday morning I was listening to The California Report story on the first legal same-sex marriages in the state. It started with people's words; the one I liked the best was the Clerk Officer who said that she was so excited to be able to perform marriages for everyone that she had been in tears on her way to work Tuesday morning. I'm a wedding softie and I cry at every wedding, regardless of how well I know the couple. I was all choked up, listening to love on the radio.


So I decided that today I would go to the Alameda County Recorder's Office to give flowers to newlyweds (mixed-sex ones too). I just want to be a part of it! I'm in favor of love and hope and community and if a wedding isn't about those things I don't know what is. Plus, while it is civil obedience, it has the tinge of civil disobedience, especially as we are facing a November "marriage = man + woman" ballot measure. However, people are really starting to feel like we might win this time; the number 51% has been bandied about in terms of how many people are in favor of any adult being able to marry any other adult. I keep hearing, "We have more important things to worry about than who's marrying whom." Even if it passes, I heard on Forum that it doesn't mean that all these people's marriages will be annulled, since they were legal when they happened.


On my way from BART, I passed a woman about my age and four children walking in the other direction. The little boy was in black shorts and a tailcoat, the little girl in a flowergirl's dress, and the two older girls, who may have been junior high schoolers, were wearing formals. They girls and the woman were carrying flowers, and in response to something someone asked I heard the woman say, "We're helping to celebrate love!" When I came upon them, I said, "I am too!"


Knitty and I met near the County Recorder's Building and took the elevator up to the "wedding room," which has several quilts designed on the theme of marriage and three pews. We sat in the anteroom with glitter-spinkled purple daisies and waited for something to happen. We absolutely didn't know what to expect, though neither of us were expecting just the two of us chatting quietly for about half an hour. Finally, a Clerk came in followed by a man and two women who appeared to be in their early 50's. Knitty figured out the man and which woman were the marrying couple; when they came out I offered the bride a daisy. She declined, saying the flower would die by the time they got back to Concord, but I think she may have just been terribly shy.


The second couple were a pair of young African Americans, along with about half a dozen parental types. The bride was wearing a short white dress perfect for today's heat and the groom was in a gold and black silk shirt that made him look like a million bucks. I offered the bride a daisy and she smiled and thanked me. The third couple, handsome South Asians or Middle Easterners in their mid-20s, were joined by three friends, one of whom was wearing a hijab. When they came out and I offered my congratulations, the groom took the flower and enthusiastically shook my hand.


So it wasn't exactly what we thought it would be. Knitty pointed out that maybe all the hoopla had happened here on Tuesday, or if it was still happening was happening in San Francisco. No and KT got married at SF's City Hall and it is a much jazzier place to tie the knot, it must be said. Still, I was happy with and for the people we saw in the 90 minutes we were there, even if they were all female/male couples. Because of Odyssey, and after returning from the Pacific Northwest, I am very appreciative of the diversity of cultures and races here.


Knitty told me that I was really brave for giving flowers and congratulations to strangers. I told her that I'm a dork. I'm just more willing than some to be a dork to strangers. Especially in the cause of love, hope, and community.

Forty and Flirty

Flirting is like Potter Stewart's definition of pornography: I know it when I see it, but I can't describe it. It's the intention behind the actions more than anything else.


Some friends and I were discussing whether a guy at the Barnes & Noble was flirting with one of the people in the group. She said that she couldn't tell whether the guy at the counter was trying to let her know he liked her and not just the movies she'd selected. Was it flirting or just really friendly customer service? Since none of us had been there, of course, we advised another few rounds of movie purchases with perhaps some book and music discussions thrown in. With more data, we think we'll be able to figure it out.


That led to a discussion about all the times each of us had been someplace, like a grocery store, where we left wondering if the counter person/checker/barista was flirting. A friend asked me last night if the checker was flirting with her when she said, "Have a good night, love" and all I could think was, "Well, what was the tone when she said it? How was she looking at you?" and "Was she from the U.K.?" I got carded one time when I thought the person bagging groceries was flirting with me. I was so discombobulated by the possibility that I was being flirted with that I was totally confused when the checker asked me for my ID. If I had been the checker, I wouldn't have accepted it, I was acting so weird.


These days I don't get flirted with very often in stores of any kind. I think this might be because a lot of people in retail are all still in their 20s and now I'm much older than they are. In fact, I think I do most of my flirting with Zirpu, which doesn't really count, and with JR, which also doesn't really count. I also know that sometimes I say things to people that could be construed as flirting when I'm not flirting: If someone is wearing something that looks really good, I'll smile and say so. Sometimes I realize that they might be wondering what my intention is.


That's what is behind flirting: Intention. And that's what makes flirting so exciting: You don't exactly know who intends what - sometimes, anyway.

By any name

I need reassurance that if the general election is McCain vs. Obama, that Obama will win.


I asked a friend for it yesterday and he said, "He will." He then went on to say that Clinton isn't electable because of too much political baggage, and that sexism remains stronger in this country than racism.


I heard Bill Cunningham on NPR the other day defending his use of Obama's middle name (it also turns out that Ann Coulter uses "B. Hussein Obama"when referring to him). Basically his defense was that Barack Hussein Obama is his name, and he'll use it, just as he uses John Sidney McCain Jr." What?


What I think is stupid about this is that I think people get to identify themselves. Obama doesn't use his middle name, just as I don't use my middle name, just as a couple people I know don't use their first names. There are occasions when we have to use our middle names, and maybe being sworn in as President is one of those occasions, but most of the time most of us get to use the name we choose.


I think the right to identify ourselves extends to all areas, like gender, sexual orientation, religion, and race. If someone insists on calling me by a name I've asked not to be called by, that makes that someone a jerk. Of course, some of those someones are not even worth responding to.

Why Milestone?

You may have noticed that I received an invitation to check out a blog about turning 40 in the comments to the post "Feelin' It."


I don't exactly get it. Turning 40 is a milestone, but of what? Why? Because people say it is? Why do they say it is? I'm not seeing any answers on that blog yet. What would "experiencing Turning 40 to the fullest" look like?


At 16 you can legally drive (though I know that recently a lot of conditions have been put on 16 and 17 year old drivers).
At 18 you can vote, and if you're male, you must register for the Selective Service.
At 21, you can legally drink (but a lot of people who will drink after turning 21 started when they were well under 21).
At 50, you get an invitation to join AARP as a full-fledged member.
At 65, you qualify for Social Security payments and Medicare health insurance, and you can withdraw money from your IRA without big penalties.


I'm not seeing 40 in there as a significant marker, unless you count getting mammograms - and only 51% of us have to do that, and a lot of women start getting them before they turn 40. So why is it such a milestone?

Dreaming

I stopped by Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper and have been not-tagged. She's posted a fairly serious (for her) story about a conversation she had with a client over the phone. She won't tag anyone, but she says:

". . . I'll ask that you do one thing: continue this on your blog or in an email to your friends or on the back of your car with shoe polish, if you have to. Simply begin with those words and let your heart take over.

Renew the dream."

I have a dream that couples of the same sex will be recognized for the quality of their love, not their gender. That when a woman says "I'm her wife" she won't be denied a hospital visit; that when two men want to be fathers they will be allowed to adopt; that when a child talks about his Mom and Mama no one will make fun of him for "having no dad." That when a woman brings her girlfriend home to meet the parents, and then brings the boyfriend, the parents won't "ask" her to only date men because her life will be "so much easier."


I have a dream that someday, people will be judged not by the expression of their love but by the content of their love.

Real Women Have Curves

I'm finding this harder than writing every day. Harder in the sense that I have to remember to do it; when I had to write every day I never forgot. This week I was going to write on Thursday but I got caught up in vacation planning until it was time for bed. I also feel that I should write more interesting things than what's going on in my head now that I shouldn't be scrambling for a topic every day.


The other night some friends and I were talking about curvy female celebrities. You know I have a thing for funny-looking Englishmen, but when I think about women I think are sexy, I have a hard time finding them in the media. Granted, I kind of suck at pop culture these days because the only TV I watch is Food Network* and SciFi^. I think Queen Latifah is sexy, bouncy, and I love her smile. But after stating that to my friends I couldn't think of anyone else. One friend mentioned America Ferrera, who plays the title character in Ugly Betty and who I've only seen in Real Women Have Curves (an unusual coming-of-age movie in that it was about a woman), and then our suggestions ran out.


Well, hooray for Google because I searched for "celebrities with curves" and found this USA Today article from a year ago talking about how larger-sized women are becoming more acceptable in Hollywood, New York, and fashion. I also found this discussion about celebrities with curves, listing sexy larger ladies. What I noticed was this: Seven of the fifteen women mentioned in the USA Today story are Latina or African-American. I don't know a lot of the women mentioned in the discussion group but of the ones I do know, it seems many of them are people of color. I wonder if the definition of beauty is being affected by racial demographics? Or maybe it is just coming back around: Marilyn Monroe and Debbie Reynolds were size 12s, and probably so were most, if not all, of these women.


Not that I necessarily think these women are sexy:
* Paula Deen, Nigella Lawson, Rachael Ray
^ Whoopi Goldberg, Marina Sirtis

Seven Weird Things About Your PAL

On this, the last day of NaBloPoMo, I shall respond to Boegle's tag on this meme (her seven weird things are here). This way I don't (I think) have to tag anyone else. The rules are to link back to the person who tagged you (she tagged me in the Comments section on Monday), tag seven random people, and write about seven weird things about yourself.


Because I couldn't respond right away I've had a bit to think about this. I think "unusual" is a better word than "weird", certainly less loaded. Here goes:


1) I'm bisexual. That's definitely in the unusual-rather-than-weird category. I don't think being bisexual is weird, it's just the way things are. But I recognize that other people seem to think it's a little weird (and I'm not talking about wide-stance Republicans here), and it's a good, sensationalized way to start the list. The rest of the list is in no particular order.


2) Until recently, I could recite (not sing) all of the words on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band in order. This is my Desert Island Disc, the record with which I learned how to use a record player, and my instant cheer-up solution.


3) I have never eaten a peanut butter sandwich, but that's because I'm allergic. I have, however, made one. I had a camper who didn't bring a lunch when I was working at the JCC day camp in 1986. I actually made four tiny PB&Js because the only bread we had was Melba toast. I remember it as a singularly unpleasant experience because of the scent, which I find overpowering.


4) I never thought I would marry, up until a couple of months before I asked Zirpu to marry me. In a life marked by so much risk-avoidance and indecision masquerading as decision, marrying him was so right it was compelling and I had to ask. I didn't even shack up with him before asking, and we got married when I'd known him less than two years.


5) I was on TV when I was nine or so (I still had the braid, so I was no more than ten). It was a show on cable TV called "Rainy Days," an educational show for kids a little older than the audience for The Electric Company. I talked to the host (maybe it was a talk show targeting what are now known as "tweens") about my then-current favorite book, The Phantom Tollbooth, which I have given to several children in the last 10 years.

This happened before VCRs came along so I never saw my interview. I don't know if I caused a Fonzie effect.


6) I'm a ballroom dancer. If you're wondering, my favorite dances are rumba and foxtrot. My least favorite are tango (American and Argentine) and waltz, though I would watch the latter anytime.


7) I hate white underwear. I have been known to rant about how difficult it is to buy packs of undies that don't include white ones. I have particular hatred for Tighty (or Tidy?) Whities, and have stopped dating a couple men once I learned of their preference for them.


and. . .Because none of the above are particularly strange, except maybe the "reciting a rock album" thing:


8) I can put my toes in my mouth even though I have never done yoga. I still do it sometimes.

This photo goes with yesterday's post

It's from one of my yearbooks, and I didn't want to take the time to find and scan it last night. Photos of us are all over that year's yearbook, but this is my favorite one.

Someone On My Mind

I haven't been able to get to the library so I am rereading Annie On My Mind (spoiler alert: link includes a plot synopsis). It's a story about two 12th graders who fall in love. I read it for the first time about ten years ago.


This book was published in 1982, the year I graduated from eighth grade and started high school. I wish I had read it instead of Judy Blume, which I didn't understand. Almost everything that happened in 11th grade, and a lot of the things I'd felt and experienced prior to that, would have made much more sense had I known that girls could, would, and did like girls. I only knew that boys and men were or could be homosexual. For me, so many things were classified under "If I were a boy. . ." The one book I read that had a plot about gay lovers (from the library at my Catholic school, oddly enough) was about a girl who finds her boyfriend in the bushes having sex with her best friend - also a guy.


I was such a dummy. I only have the Reagan Administration and the total lack of talk about sex at home as my defense. The big mystery is why none of it hit home when my (very progressive) PE teacher brought in a panel to discuss homosexuality and even bisexuality for one class during the "Life Skills" quarter.


Of course I fell in love with a girl in my class, my best friend, and in retrospect I know she fell in love with me too. She had a paper route so she could never sleep over, but when I spent the night at her place, I got up and delivered papers with her. When we got back she made the craziest French toast ("When we make it in New Zealand, we always add hot sauce") and I would eat it and not only declare it, but actually find it delicious. For years afterwards, and I mean years, because the last time it happened has been since I moved back to California, whenever I saw someone who looked like her, my heart would stop and I would have to catch my breath (if that sounds like hyperbole, remember this was my first love and I was a teenager so I've gone back to that place when it happened).


If I'd read Annie On My Mind in, say, 1983, or even 1986, so many things would have made much more sense. The fact that I never got what was so special about boys, just for starters! And maybe this girl and I would have had an actual relationship. . . Not that it wouldn't have been full of passion, drama, and confusion- an adolescent relationship is an adolescent relationship after all - and its own problems, especially as in 1985, we would not have been able to be out comfortably at our high school.


I was feeling sad last night about this girl for the first time in many years. And it wasn't she that I was feeling sad about really, it was the missed opportunity, or the experience I could have had or should have had, instead of the one I actually did, which resulted in my running around the halls at the school thinking, "I'm too young for this! I'm only 17!" and getting in a stupid, crazy fight on prom night (well, maybe I wouldn't have gotten in that fight, but I'm sure I would have pled youth about anything). I wonder if we could talk about that craziness now; we sure couldn't the last time we saw each other, in 1989. But all of that is a long story, at least another blog post if not a novel.