my response to the marriage project

A writer by the name of Jill Malone asked for people to respond to her version of the Marriage Project. This is what she said:

"Would you consider submitting to me your reasons for supporting marriage equality? Your sexuality is beside the point, as is mine, so I welcome support from my queer community and our straight allies. Write why you chose to marry, or why you would marry, or why you believe in marriage, or why you’re not into marriage but think marriage equality is still vital. Write whatever you feel compelled to write."

Here is what I have to say on the subject:

I am a naturalized Texan. A damn Yankee who found her home and heart in the most unlikely of places: Houston, Texas. Nearly 1,700 miles from my Long Island birth and worlds away from the culture(s) I was raised in.

The first time I heard Blanche Dubois' liquid lilt, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers," I was sure I would never understand such helplessness. I am decidedly not a southern belle, geographic choice notwithstanding.

But my lack of legal standing does just that--it makes me depend on the kindness of strangers. Something that is only sweet and charming in fiction, if there. I had to depend upon the kindness of strangers when the love of my life had a partial mastectomy and I had no legal standing that would allow me to sit with her in recovery. I touched her face as she came in and out of consciousness, sharply aware of how tenuous that moment was. We have all sorts of legal paperwork "stop-gap" solutions but ultimately, if our relationship is not legally recognized, we are terribly vulnerable to the prejudice or ignorance of the people in power around us.

I can't imagine our world operating on the kindness of strangers, though I believe most strangers are essentially kind. We learned as a nation that it was not enough to think: Well, no one would make small children work in factories! Everyone would agree that it's in society's best interest to protect and educate the children! Just pitch in. Taxes should be paid on the honor system and divorces granted fair and equitably without any legislation! We learned that it was not enough because it didn't work. I'm not interested in arguing libertarian views here. If we were all motivated to help the poor, build new roads and follow a universal code of ethics, we wouldn't have had the disastrous stories that prompted laws governing fairness and equity.

My beloved on the left and me and my snark on the right.
Protesting the idiocy that was/is Prop 8.

So I want to legally marry this woman with whom I have shared 25 years of marriage. Raising children, buying a home, developing careers, paying taxes, and all the other blissful and mundane things that marriage entails. All that and the incredible happiness and occasional grief that weave through most of our lives. But as far as my state and country are concerned, we are just two unrelated people who bought a house together.  If the police come to our door because of a crime or emergency, I must depend on their sense of fairness when it comes to letting us ride together in an ambulance. I must hope that their sensitivity and diversity training had taught them to respect our relationship. But we are not guaranteed anything because our "relationship" doesn't exist within the legal world.

I do not swoon and go limp when people ask me why I think I should have the right to marry...hoping for their kind support. I'm not interested in kindness or generosity or tolerance. I am interested in my rights. I am interested in equality.

perpetual idiocy rules

Let's face it: facebook sucks the life out of blogging. But here I am because facebook also provides endless fodder for blogging. (If one has time/energy left after logging off.)

A friend posted the tripe above. She, like a million other women, view this as the romantic ideal.

It's not.
It is patronizing, controlling and offensive. Insulting to both men and women.

Let's take it apart (without the stupid title caps and random punctuation crapulence), shall we?:

When she pulls away, pull her back.

Oh dear. How much like "when she says no she really means yes" is this? By all means, pull her back against her will; just hope her left jab isn't better than yours.

When you see her start crying, just hold her and don't say a word.

Because you are an imbecile and couldn't possibly figure out how to ask her what is the matter. And if you speak, you'll just fuck everything up.

When you see her walking, sneak up and hug her waist from behind.

Whatever. If she hates surprises, wear protection.

When she's scared, protect her.

Because everyone knows that women dissolve into little piles of scented hankies when they're scared.

When she steals your favorite hoodie, let her wear it.

She's just a cutesy little klepto-muffin and isn't that adorable?

When she says that she loves you, she really does mean it.

And you couldn't possibly assess that based on your own observation, right?

When she grabs at your hands, hold hers and play with her fingers.

Seriously. Stop that.

When she tells you a secret, keep it safe and untold.

As opposed to what you normally do when someone confides in you.

When she looks at you in your eyes, don't look away until she does.

Nothing more romantic than a staring contest.

When she's mad, hug her tight and don't let go.

Unless she's armed. In which case, really don't let her go.

When she says she's okay, don't believe it.

Sigh. Really? Try to forget middle school.

Treat her like she's all that matters to you.

Every woman's dream guy is the obsessed stalker.

Kiss her in the pouring rain.

Yawn.

When she runs up to you crying, the first thing you say is: "Whose butt am I kicking, baby?"

Even if she's genuinely upset about something of merit, threatening bloodshed will make it all better.

Men and women will not break worn out and limiting patterns until they recognize this as just imbecilic role-playing.

squiddy transformed

Any question why we nicknamed it Squiddy?

Last Saturday marked one year since Barbara concluded her radiation therapy, so October 1st has become her cancer-free anniversary. I took her "Mammosite" (radiation device we affectionately named "Squiddy") and turned it into a bouquet to mark the occasion.

Some of you may find this gross, I know. Therein lies one difference between us. The technology and materials of medical procedures are endlessly fascinating to me and the fact that it was once inside her body (doing important work, I might add) only makes it more fascinating.

Some people beat weapons into plough shares,
I choose to transform medical devices into nosegays.

Besides, she loved the transformation. Before she even knew that it was Squiddy in disguise, seeing the small vase of her favorite color (purple) flowers brought tears to her eyes.

The fear of losing her remains an undercurrent so powerful that it (uncharacteristically) moves me to suppression. No desire to delve into the murky depth of my soul, no need to analyze and dissect. I don't live my life in constant angst but whenever I think of that time it's as if I'm teetering at the opening of Jonah's whale. I am sure I don't adequately express to her the depth of my relief at her presence. Every day.

Squiddy served us well, and deserves to be decorated.

spilled milk

Spilled Milk

by Willa Schneberg

I can still hear the clink
of the milk bottles he brought home
10:00 in the morning after he made
his deliveries for Bordens.
Thirty-five years, they never
gave him off a Jewish holiday.
The goy he asked to do his shift
on Yom Kippur refused and
the next day he dropped dead.
They called it a Jewish curse.
Then they stepped all over each other
to work for him.

What could I do after his stroke?
I put him in a nursing home.
He knows me, but can't talk anymore.
Fifty years we lived together
he would never weep in front of me.
Now all the time his eyes are tearing,
but there is no more Morris to cry.

Lovemaking wasn't so easy between us
in the early years. We both felt guilty.
We thought we weren't supposed to enjoy
it and I was always worried
about becoming pregnant.
Later on we worried the children would hear.
But after they grew up and moved out
and I couldn't bear anymore
we began to have fun.
It wasn't always before going to sleep either.
Sometimes during breakfast
he would say, Let's go
and roll his eyes up to the bedroom.
Luba, he would say, I'll help you
take out the hairpins.
___________________________________
Listen to Garrison Keillor read this lovely poem here.

back from the lands

We're back from our trip to the Lands (Eng-, Fin-, Ire-) and like all great holidays away, we're so happy to be back home. Enjoyed a tour of Cambridge, had tea and scones at Grantchester (communing with the spirit of Virginia Woolf) and saw the cathedral and stained glass museum in Ely (pronounced EEL-ee). I have long loved academia. The whole dedication to learning and subsequent freedom from poverty (in my family's history) has been a strong influence in my life.

Beautiful Cambridge University...but you are not allowed to walk on the grass, grasshopper, unless you wear the robe of a professor.

But lately I've begun to rethink the manner in which we revere academics. The system of measurement is effective in many ways but in many ways it devalues much of what makes wisdom so profound. I was surprised to find the atmosphere and history of Cambridge off-putting.

Stained glass panel in the Ely Cathedral

All that glorified hierarchy is reminiscent of every type of class stratification. Only the Fellows (professors) can walk on the lawn, plum dorm assignments are based on academic performance and many wear their robes to class. Perhaps I am just freeing myself from...or widening my view of the value I placed on being a scholar nerd. I still love learning and history and words. I'm just less impressed by the way we measure such things.

All told, the close of such an adventure is bittersweet. Every place had its own smell and taste and beauty and contradiction. The 360 degree sounds of foreign languages is disorienting and delightful. The sound of English spoken with so many accents was wonderful too. The ability to do all this in my current unemployed state and bring Barbara's mother along as well makes me grateful for the material comforts I have in my life. Traveling with your mother-in-law can be trying (for her more than me, I suspect) but her joy and satisfaction with seeing these faraway lands will put a smile on my face for many years.

...Not to mention the way traveling makes you feel about home. I have many issues with our nation and its politics but love for country (and Houston, Texas in general) is strengthened, not weakened, by seeing other places. Mostly, I am grateful to Barbara. This was our 25th anniversary celebration (our anniversary is technically next month but I don't fancy Northern European temperatures in late October/early November!) and our 5th trip to Europe in 15 years...and we had such a great time. Being able to talk through the stress and share the joy of whatever we're doing is such a boon. I never tire of adventuring with her!

póg mo thóin said the sheep

We've spent 4 days and 3 nights in Ireland. We stayed in Dublin, Killarney and Galway. It's absolutely beautiful. And though generalizations about cultures are full of logical fallacies, the Irish have been markedly friendly and funny. You can find tons of gorgeous photos online about Ireland but Barbara snapped this rather unusual one:

The sheep seemed put out.

The Ring of Kerry tour in Killarney included a demonstration of shepherding by a heavily brogued shepherd, two incredibly well-trained border collies (Bess and Sam, as I recall) and a bunch of long-suffering sheep. It was very impressive.

trade winds and trade offs

Quickly now, before travel exhaustion takes over and I start to slur my blog words. I haven't seen enough museums or artisans but our days have been filled with beautiful weather and great views. We leave for Dublin in the early hours tomorrow so I'm off to bed now.

vacation reminder

from today's Writer's Almanac

The Word

by Tony Hoagland

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between "green thread"
and "broccoli," you find
that you have penciled "sunlight."

Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful. It touches you
as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present
he had sent from someplace distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing

that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds

of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder

or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,

but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom

still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,

—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.

land of the vowels

Happy 9.10.11! It is Saturday and we're in Helsinki. Days get folded into one another when you're on vacation. It feels like Friday or Sunday or Thursday...

Billy Elliot marquee in front of the Victoria Palace Theatre.

We left the U.S. on Tuesday evening and spent the night/next day traveling, an evening in Cambridge with our dear friends Rich and Christy and their son Matthew, then a full day and night in London. We road in the top of a double-decker bus and toured London for a couple of hours (descriptive), saw Billy Elliot (delightful) and sat in a pub drinking beer and eating fish & chips (delicious).

Yesterday we flew to Finland. Helsinki is a great city. Beautifully designed, fairly easy to get around on bike or tram or on foot. The only challenge is deciphering street names that are so chock-full of vowels you barely figure out the word before the tram is at the next stop.

All in all, the weather has been amazing. In the 60's during the day, 50's at night. In London there was a bit of drizzle but mostly it was dry. Helsinki is sunny and unusually warm for this time of year.

Iida with her fashion-forward hat and sweet face.

Since I am (voluntarily) Julie, Cruise Director, it has been hard not to be "on" at all times. That and short nights of sleep have left me little time to write or pause.

So, off for a short walk and perhaps a little reading for me tonight. I am happy for an activity-free evening.

Tomorrow we join our dear Maria, her husband Janne (/YON-uh/) and their beautiful daughter Iida (/EE-duh/) for a walk around the market and some dinner at their house.