Salt Lake City - CTW Conference

I'm in Salt Lake City getting ready to attend the Circling the Wagons conference that begins later today. The conference is at the center of a great deal of controversy, and we'll see how that plays out as the weekend unfolds.

At the center of the controversy are questions of authenticity, identity, and life journeys that certain presenters at the conference have claimed and experienced. Much has already been written in blogs, and in online groups and forums. The tone has been strident and vituperative. I found the lack of dialogue, the anger, the personal attacks, and the bitterness of the exchanges to be uncharitable, uncomprehending, stigmatizing, and generally not useful to examine and explore perspectives and understanding that people coming from different backgrounds might have for the issues confronting Mormons grappling with gender, sexual orientation and attraction, and institutional stigmatization. And all of this happened before the conference even began!

This is what I hope happens here: I hope all of us can open our ears so that our heads and hearts can hear what is spoken. I hope we can ascribe all presenters good intentions, and proceed from that foundation. I hope we can be humble, be open to questions rather than answers, be satisfied with a carefully studied ambivalence, be able to bridge a wide gulf that in the past has been full of bitterness, hurt, despair, and loss.

Authenticity

Authenticity refers to our credibility, our truthfulness, our commitments, and our intentions. In short, it examines whether our conscious life choices are congruent with our values and beliefs. Gauging another person's authenticity is a difficult task because no empirical method exists to determine a person's values and beliefs other than that person's assertions. Consequently, we often use a person's behavior as a surrogate measure of his or her values and beliefs, without having a reliable understanding of that person's motivations that give rise to the observed behavior. Human beings attribute behavior to motivation, and almost always get the motivation wrong. We simply cannot look at behavior and claim it is based on a specific motivation. Because we cannot clearly explain another person's behavior, our comprehension of another person's authenticity is often incomplete.

Rather than search for authenticity in others, I hope that each of us look for our own authentic expression, and in the process, that we ascribe best intentions to others. I believe that will bring us closer to an honest and engaging dialogue with each other.

Identity

Identity names us, tells us who we are. It labels personal, social, and cultural characteristics with which a person describes him or herself. Struggles about identity chiefly affect members of subcultural groups. Members of a dominant culture don't, for the most part, struggle with issues of identity, except as identity affects people who they care about in a subculture. Identity serves a couple of purposes: it defines who is part of a subculture, and it serves as a brake against assimilation in the larger culture. Identity is not only what a subculture names itself, but it is also what the dominant culture labels the subculture.

Problems of identity arise out of stigmatization. A dominant culture almost always stigmatizes the subcultures within it. Subcultures are viewed by their dominant culture as problems, "other," mentally ill, dangerous, and immoral. Identity becomes an issue for members in a subculture when they internalize these kinds of stigmatizations.

Subcultures also identify themselves, and stigmatize and separate out their own subgroups. For example, within group of Mormons characterized by the larger Mormon society as having "homosexual inclinations," a rainbow of subgroups exist that don't identify with each other, but are grouped together by the Mormon society from which they spring. A lot of name-calling ensues, and I believe that identity issues lay at the root of the current controversy.

I offer a thought experiment: rather than making specific claims of identity, recast those claims such that they do not rest on attribution of being. For example, instead of saying, "I am a gay man," you could reformulate that as, "I prefer to have intimate relationships with other men." Identity that isn't rooted in physical characteristics is often culturally driven. Maybe we should practice some studied ambivalence about our orientation/attraction until we have heard what other stigmatized Mormons with "homosexual inclinations" might have to say about their individual situations. I believe their stories are important and that they should be heard.

Life Journeys

We are all on life journeys. No journey is identical to another. Every one of them is unique. I hope we can approach other peoples' journeys with a humility and respect for the sacredness of a path that ultimately is one's own. We are all broken. We have all stumbled. We are all bloodied. Let's not compound the injury and the pain that we have felt. We are taught in church to love, not judge. He who has ears, let him hear.

Civil Marriage Protection Act

It's not gay marriage or same-sex marriage. It's marriage. It's not a different kind of marriage. It's not about being lesbian or gay or straight. It's simply about marriage. That's all that it's about. Marriage.

I'm deeply disappointed that the House of Delegates did not pass the Civil Marriage Protection Act, but instead sent the bill back to committee. The delegates took their action because of the religious prejudice of some of the delegates, and because of the religious prejudice that many constituents have about homosexuality. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, "Religious bigotry makes bad public policy."

I resent that this whole topic is even up for discussion. Marriage is a basic human right - a right to form and nurture a family. I am angry that legislators, responding to a religious proscription that is 5,000 years old, would deny me my civil right to marriage. These same legislators wear linen/wool blends, but they certainly don't act on that ancient religious proscription.

Religious bigotry is insidious for several reasons. First of all, it's a useful cover in the United States, because our society has an extremely high regard for "Judeo-Christian" beliefs and practices. Secondly, this kind of bigotry is highly selective in the kinds of proscriptions it professes to be God's will. It used to be that slavery was God's will. Today, it is God's will that gay and lesbian people cannot marry. In America, if you can wrap your rhetoric in the Bible, then wrap it in the flag, you're well on your way.

Okay, I'll calm down some. But I ask the members in the House of Delegates, how would my marriage undermine marriage? If any of those delegates who voted to recommit the bill are divorced, or have committed adultery, I submit they are truly undermining marriage, and maybe they should re-examine their stance on the Civil Marriage Protection Act.

Stanley Kurtz Is Dead

I'll miss Stanley. Oh, he wasn't a close friend, or anything like that, but I'll miss him, nevertheless, much as God misses any of His Creation. I mean, I don't have to know his intimate life (although I do) to appreciate the fact that Stanley, well, Stanley was quite a piece of work, and a hard worker, too.

I've got to keep better track of things. I didn't see it coming, and I should have, because that's my job. I suppose I could have prevented his death, it was untimely. According to my charts, Stanley was supposed to clock in another twenty-two years, four months, and eighteen days. I did not anticipate that flying lunch box. Normally, air resistance would have slowed it down so that it would have dented Stanley's head, but it wouldn't have been fatal. Alas, it contained one too many cans of sardines, and it fell, unimpeded down those eighty-seven stories.

No, I don't take the blame for Stanley's passing. I don't engineer events. I just let them happen. I'm not a personal God, because that would make me a personal servant. I don't make coffee for anyone else. And Stanley was walking when the lunch box impacted his cranium. He was one of my best thinkers: clear sighted, energetic, calling out Obama and the homosexual agenda, defending my values. I adored what he did, although I thought he was a bit stuffy and overly combative.

Stanley was right about one thing. Homosexuals getting married is really going to upset the applecart. It's so sad that he stepped in front of that bus trying to avoid that gay skateboarder bearing down on him. I mean, I knew that the skateboarder was packing fudge, but Stanley only knew that theoretically. Stanley was plastered up against the windshield like a giant locust from Utah. His colleagues at the Hudson Institute (of which Dr. Kurtz was an associate fellow) will miss him terribly. The skateboarder was unhurt, but ticketed for feckless behavior.

If I had hands, I would wring them. I once had hands, and I did wring them, and it caused lots of problems. To put it simply, the unexpected expansion of the universe shortly after The Big Bang was caused by a lot of my hand wringing. Or maybe it was the blink of an eye. I forget. Fifteen billion years doesn't seem like a lot of time, but there is so much to remember, and frankly my memory is not that good. I would wring my hands over the demise of Stanley Kurtz. He was that good.

Yes, he was walking his dog, Swoosie (that was his little joke for being saddled with his last name: he really didn't like it that much), when the dachshund leaped after a squirrel, and Stanley slipped on a banana peel. How life mimics art! His left leg came up over his chest and wrenched his buttocks into an airborne state. The cheery whistle on his lips morphed into a rictus grin of prescient doom. Clearly, Stanley knew that his number was up. Felled by a banana peel. This is an end of Biblical proportions. I didn't plan it this way at all. Stanley crumpled on the street, only to be run over by a charging garbage truck. Because I'm God, I don't believe in luck. Fate is another, different thing, though.

Like Stanley, I don't particularly like homosexuals mocking me. They pretend that when they marry each other, it's all going to settle the matter. I sent them Fred Phelps. I sent them Pat Robertson. I sent them Stanley Kurtz. I even sent them Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith, Jr. I stripped them of their dignity. I had thugs beat and murder them. I turned my back on them, even the ones I loved (Caravaggio's angels come to mind). And what do they do? They want to get married. Can you imagine that? They want to get married!

Stanley would have none of it. He was a great statistician, which is to say, he was no statistician at all. He knew how to make numbers lie so that hateful pols and smarmy media commentators could make blood libel (truly, those Americans really do like to kill homosexuals) about part of my imperfect creation, something that I was a little disturbed about, too. Stanley knew, and I fully agree, because I am God, that homosexuals threaten marriage. I'm not sure why they threaten marriage, that was up to Stanley to figure out. So he lied about it.

My creation started out better than this, and the six thousand years or so (yeah, I know I cooked the fossil record, too) turned out pretty well. The earth had a certain bloody order (if not the universe). But it's gotten out of whack. The Madonna isn't a virgin anymore. Jesus is a Mexican baseball player. And Modern Family is the most popular television show in America. I gave them Sarah Palin, but they are watching Glee. And now, Stanley is gone. I weep, but enough of that. You don't want to see me weep. It messes up the atmosphere.

So Stanley died at his desk. He was reading M.V. Lee Badgett's book, When Gay People Get Married. His hippocampus suffered a proto-molecular quantum wave collapse. He never recovered. Dead as a door nail. Stanley Kurtz is dead.

Just Walk Away with Your Hands in My Pockets

I heard a disturbing news story about home foreclosures on NPR this morning. In Nevada, one in four of all foreclosures were owners walking away from their mortgage payments. The article reported that the stigma that used to be attached to foreclosure simply isn't what it used to be.

The news story reported that homeowners with a mortgage are frustrated with the bailed-out banks, and that homeowners haven't yet received their bailout. Bankers seem to be pretty unpopular among the indebted set. The government assistance programs to troubled homeowners are too cumbersome, and are not helping to relieve their debt load. So the homeowners take a walk, even those who can afford their mortgage, they take a walk.

Human nature strives mightily to rationalize behavior in ethical or moral ways. When we have moral lapses, we look for excuses to explain why bad behavior isn't so bad. Sometimes, foreclosure is necessary. Sometimes the debt is too much, and circumstances make it impossible for homeowners to pay on their mortgage. Certainly, loss of a job, major illness, divorce may make it impossible to pay the mortgage. Are walkaways, where homeowners have the means to pay their mortgage, justified?

Homeowners sign a contract with a bank when they get a mortgage. What does a contract mean if a person willfully breaches the contract when that person has the means to fulfill the contract? The decision is a moral decision, and I didn't hear much justification in the news story, except that it just didn't make economic sense for the homeowners to continue with their mortgage payments. These are people who can afford the payments, but choose to walk away because their homes will never have the resale value as the mortgage that they are paying.

Here is where the finger pointing begins. Undoubtedly, banks were out to get homeowners to buy as big a mortgage as possible, in some instances to re-finance and pull most of the value out of their homes. Homeowners believed that the value of their homes would never fall. Bankers engaged in predatory practices. Homeowners bought overpriced property with money they didn't have. Now the banks are bailed out and moving toward financial health, and the homeowners are struggling and feeling like they've been screwed over.

Unfortunately, the bubble has burst; the horse has left the barn, and we're closing the barn door. Homeowners who walks away from mortgages that they have the means to pay are devaluing the property of their neighbors who continue to make their payments. While it may be best for the individual homeowner to walk away, such action damages the social contract. It hurts the rest of us. On the face of it, the act is dishonest. It does no good to blame the greedy bankers. Somewhere, sometime, individuals have to be held responsible for their actions. Unless a homeowner was signing that mortgage contract under duress or fraudulent circumstances, that homeowner knowingly and willingly signed the contract and agreed to make regular mortgage payments.

This news story isn't over yet. I'm not sure how the government can (or should) help homeowners who are underwater. I can appreciate the anger and frustration that homeowners feel. I hope they think long and hard before taking a walk when they have the means to pay the mortgage. When they walk, they are taking money out of your back pocket.

Apart

An accidental interloper, he
Filled in the empty spaces of one heart.
He moved between their two magnetic poles,
A force, himself, to move the two apart.

At first, he hardly noticed the affair.
His curiosity had seen the pair
Impregnable it seemed to the outside,
The unlatched heart, broke, hidden in its lair.

A spark, impassioned, flew from their cold hearth
and kindled flames of folly in his breast.
Swept up in the idea of hot romance,
Put life's relation to a bitter test.

The pair's polarity reversed, tears shed.
The barreness unspoke acknowledged now.
His heart quite broken in the aftermath
Of ill-considered pleasure in a bed.

Dinner and All That (Explained to the Uninitiated)

Ron pointed out to me that I tend to gloss over details in my blog entries. So I thought I'd try to explain better what I mean in my annotated version of yesterday's entry.

Sometimes, dinner is just what dinner is. You can't explain it. It just happens. Well, actually you can explain it, but I put in those two sentences for dramatic affect. And dinner doesn't "just" happen, it takes a fair amount of work, if not planning. The less planning the more chopping, paring, and drinking spirited beverages. I know this from personal experience.I like the word melange*. I'm not quite sure what it means (I really do know what it means, because I looked it up before I published this blog post), but I think it explains tonight's dinner perfectly (It didn't, but that's the subject of another blog post).

Ron had prepared a list of dining possibilities inside our kitchen. I kid you not! He withdrew a list from his shirt pocket. I was totally amazed! They included green salad; warmed over veggie stew (more about that later*); watermelon, beet, and tomato salad; potatoes; roasted cauliflower; corn on the cob; and beet greens. He said we didn't need to fix all of it(!), but these were the options. He was going to pass on the veggie stew, but everything else was in play, if I wanted it.

Okay, here's the lowdown on those asterisks and the veggie stew. I'm not sure that I literally "like" the word "melange," but it fits in well with my narrative style, at least I think so, and I'm writing this blog. If you can come up with a better word, please comment on this post. Oh, and about the veggie stew, it was another chili debacle. I accidentally put too much heat in it, like two ancho chilies and a fair amount of chipotle chili powder, plus some significant amount of cayenne pepper, and many grinds of black pepper. Honestly, it did not taste too hot for me, but when Ron started sweating profusely, I kind of figured maybe I could have used a lighter touch. Bless his heart, he did not complain until after eating at least three spoonfuls, and then he ate the rest of the bowl with a manly determination. You have to love this guy!

Ron's keen on corn, almost like he was born in Kansas Do Tel Aviv natives eat corn on the cob? or something. I really wanted some fried potatoes (it's a well-known fact that fried potatoes contain significant amounts of essential vitamins and minerals, especially if they are Idaho potatoes). The veggie stew had so much chili in it, that I figured the fried potatoes would cut a little of the heat, and my heartburn wouldn't kill me when I went to bed. I did have heartburn, and it did affect me when I went to bed, but I consider that as a minor penance for subjecting Ron to the veggie stew earlier. Besides, it really tasted wonderful, smoky and hot. I was a go on the beet and watermelon salad, and the beet greens. Operation Melange Dinner* was about to get underway.

*I started using nomenclature like this after Operation Iraqi Freedom. I figured if Dick Cheney could co-opt a perfectly useful word and turn it into a militaristic slogan of American Imperialism, I could do the same when referring to certain culinary operations in my own kitchen. Besides, I'm quite sure that Dick and Lynne must love chili because they are from Wyoming, and Wyoming is famous for buffalo chili. The Cheney's would probably think that my vegetable chili was a little effete, and if the shoe fits, wear it.

I figured Ron could eat the corn, and I would eat the veggie stew. I peeled the potatoes; he finished prepping the watermelon, beet, and tomato salad*, husked the corn on the cob, and washed the beet greens. *Did you do a double take when you read watermelon, beets, and tomatoes? I did, too. But I have learned that Ron's recipes, while exotic, are more than worth the experiment. The salad was very good, with watermelon sweetness and crunch, and the subtle flavor of the beets, plus their texture. This dish deserves a repeat on the dinner table. I got the potatoes frying about the time the beet greens were cleaned. Then all we had to do was to wait on the potatoes, warm up the veggie stew, and zap the corn on the cob.

And we did all that, got it on the table, and had an absolutely wonderful meal. He loved his corn, and the potatoes did cut the chili burn on the veggies. We had this colorful, delightful, and fresh meal that was tasty, and didn't have any cholesterol, corn syrup, BHA, or BHT. Nothing came from a box. Most of it came from the CSA farm in Pennsylvania. The food was good, and the company unsurpassed. I enjoy these cooking adventures with Ron, and appreciate his skill, talents, and inquisitiveness in the kitchen. I'm happy he cooks for me! Real food for real homosexuals.

Dinner and All That

Sometimes, dinner is just what dinner is. You can't explain it. It just happens. I like the word melange. I'm not quite sure what it means, but I think it explains tonight's dinner perfectly.

Ron had prepared a list of dining possibilities inside our kitchen. They included green salad; warmed over veggie stew (more about that later); watermelon, beet, and tomato salad; potatoes; roasted cauliflower; corn on the cob; and beet greens. He said we didn't need to fix all of it(!), but these were the options. He was going to pass on the veggie stew, but everything else was in play, if I wanted it.

Ron's keen on corn, almost like he was born in Kansas or something. I really wanted some fried potatoes. The veggie stew had so much chili in it, that I figured the fried potatoes would cut a little of the heat, and my heartburn wouldn't kill me when I went to bed. I was a go on the beet and watermelon salad, and the beet greens. Operation Melange Dinner was about to get underway.

I figured Ron could eat the corn, and I would eat the veggie stew. I peeled the potatoes; he finished prepping the watermelon, beet, and tomato salad, husked the corn on the cob, and washed the beet greens. I got the potatoes frying about the time the beet greens were cleaned. Then all we had to do was to wait on the potatoes, warm up the veggie stew, and zap the corn on the cob.

And we did all that, got it on the table, and had an absolutely wonderful meal. He loved his corn, and the potatoes did cut the chili burn on the veggies. We had this colorful, delightful, and fresh meal that was tasty, and didn't have any cholesterol, corn syrup, BHA, or BHT. Nothing came from a box. Most of it came from the CSA farm in Pennsylvania. Real food for real homosexuals.

A New Dawn

I don't mean to be ironic; it just comes out that way. I slept in my own bed for the first time in a week, and indeed, it is a new dawn, a gentler dawn, a more rested dawn.

Ron and I spent the last week at the IMEN Gathering at Camp Ramblewood near Havre de Grace, Maryland. It's a gay naturist gathering, full of a lot of flair and verve, although not always at the same time. I added my own atmospheric presence at the gathering, too.

And I wasn't even one of the fabulous ones, although if I keep it up, I'll be fabulous before I die. The pic is the part of me that can be displayed in this blog. I wouldn't want to violate my TOS.... I was participating in a Rocky Horror costume contest. I looked very scary, complete with fishnet and leather corset, not to mention the thigh-length vinyl boots with 7" heels. I was in orbit.

I continued to the wear the costume for six hours which included dinner, and a talent show performance. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do. Beauty doesn't come cheap! Classy means more than being born in a trailer park on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, you have to show your trouper colors and persevere. I think I look pretty good for an old man.

Short and Sweet

Happy on Fire

Okay, Fans, all four of you. I realize that I've been remiss over the last few weeks. Lots of stuff has happened, and you don't know jack. If I were you, I'd go somewhere else to read the news!

Not that I'm mocking you, or anything like that, like you don't have lives or are a bunch of losers, no, no, Happy would never do that, unless he thought he could get away with it, and make you believe that he actually cared about somebody, other than himself, which is kind of an interesting concept, anyway, because why would anyone except an egocentric person with an outsized concept of self keep a blog anyway?

None of this has anything to do with why I'm writing this entry, or why I entitled it, Short and Sweet. With a title like that, you might think I was going to write about waffles or cookies, both of which can be short and sweet, and in fact, I have some great cookie recipes on my recipe blog. That's probably too literal a reading of the title of this entry. In fact, I was going to make this entry a short summary of my activities in the last two weeks, but that's probably boring. But I'll do it anyway.

High on the list, while I was at the IAGSDC Square Dance Convention, Chi-Town Shakedown last week, Brian sent me one of those email questionnaires that you complete and send out to 147 of your closest friends. Brian in his own responses indicated that I was slow, perhaps a little sarcastic, and (if you really read between the lines) somewhat unhinged. To my credit, I completed Brian's questionnaire, and I'm quite pleased with the results. I'm grateful to Brian for providing the opportunity, even though it was an immense distraction (me thinking about it while on the dance floor trying to do-si-do). It consumed me. I spent hours awake at night thinking about an appropriate response. So I'm glad that that's been dispensed with.

The square dance convention was fabulous. I helped lay the flooring on the Wednesday before the convention, and met Norman during the work. Norman is this nice optometrist from New York City. I could just fall into the pools of his eyes. Dreamy in a mature male, who hasn't gone to seed, bearish sort of way. We hung out together on the Advanced floor for a couple of days. He's trying to nail down his Advanced calls. I was slumming because I just couldn't face the Challenge 1 floor. I danced several tips there on Friday, and decided that my head hurt too much to continue. I was nursing a sinus infection, and just couldn't do Challenge. Norman and I took a very satisfying nap Saturday afternoon, that left me refreshed and ready for more dancing.

It's great fun to have enough confidence in a dance program to go on auto-pilot and just move about the floor. I can do that at Advanced, and it's my own little heaven. Dancing is a lot like organized religion. The caller calls, and the dancers obey. Sound familiar? It's very hierarchical, a real S&M relationship. I had a great time dancing with Norman.

So on Sunday afternoon, the very last session of dancing, I went back to the Challenge 1 floor. I had a fabulous time on it. I was in a square with three (straight) couples from England who were square dancing across the United States. They dance C1 flawlessly, and helped me through it. What a dream square. I moved on to another square, and this guy bops up, takes my hand and we dance together. I get into another square, and there he is again, smiling at me, and hugging me 47 nanoseconds too long at the end of the tip. I ask him, your room or mine. He says yours, and asks me if his partner can come along. Whoa!

So that's how I met Michael and Steve. Michael is a hot little cub, and Steve is a big and very friendly bear. So we snuffled off to room 1530, and I discovered my inner bear. It turns out that Michael had been stalking me since Silicon Galaxy, which was was five conventions ago. He saw me in the Moonshine Tip, and had to have me. Such are the siren ways of square dance conventions.

The other wonderful experience at the convention was the piano bar. Chip Prince played all the show tunes, and several of us belted them out. I haven't done that in twenty years, and I only know three musicals, but it was so much fun, and hilarious, too. Thanks, Chip!

Joe Branch and I went on the Fun Badge Tour together, seeing the nether regions of Chicago, then I trekked with Grace to Calumet Park, and spent the night at her place. She turned me on to Ancestry.com. Very Interesting.

Now I'm back home. I've been out on my bike. I'm getting ready for the IMEN Gathering. This is our week in the sun. I should be packing, but I'm not. Actually, I should be writing out Condo checks, but I'm not. That will get done before we leave, or the world as we know it will be fundamentally changed. I'm really in a mood to do nothing, so I'm writing this interminable blog entry, instead.

Last night, Leo came over after work. Work drag is a big turn on for me. So I drag him inside by his tie. Leo is an overachiever. Really. So he wants me to be the cowboy and ride, ride, ride. I agree that that would be a good idea. I put some lubrication on my fingers, and prepare my delicate regions, only to discover that I haven't completely washed my hands of the chili peppers that I was roasting and skinning for dinner. Oops. Later on, Leo tells me, "Your ass is on fire." Boy, was that an understatement. Toward the end of the performance, he needed me to help him reach satisfaction. I was hesitant to do it, because of the perhaps residual damage I might cause to his member. But he urged me on. He reached Nirvana. I hope it was not a lot hotter than he expected.

Today, a couple of Ron's friends came over, Chris and Peter who were later joined by Jay. We went out to lunch, then came home for a wonderful conversation about life as gay men. I do not believe that straight men sit around the living room (or a campfire) and talk about being straight. Believe me, gay men talk a lot about being gay. I think it goes with the territory. So I told them my Leo story. They laughed their asses off. So did I. In fact today, it's only a warm memory, rather than hot sex. Leo, it really was on fire.

It's Not Easy Being Gay

I remember at the beginning of this year, that I promised all of my readers that I would be updating this blog regularly. I guess it depends on how you define "regularly."

Some updates: My bedroom is still a complete mess. I need to set a deadline, then get to it. It's a scary prospect for me. I keep hearing about elderly hoarders, and I wonder am I contemplating my next forty years every time I look at that pigsty (and that's really being unfair to pigs) of a bedroom. What gives here? Am I mentally unbalanced. I also notice clutter creeping back into the office, and it's giving me the heebie jeebies. I'm entering some warped zombie-like universe. Everywhere I look I see awful premonitions of my future.

Michael and I made it to the Silver Spring Farmers Market early Saturday morning (okay, 9 a.m.) to pick up our box of CSA produce. I also purchased a baguette and a container of cardamom gelato. Later on, I proceeded to prepare a spinach potato dish that Spiral Path Farms had conveniently included in their newsletter. Spinach Colcannon is a dish worthy of your consideration, especially if you fix it like I do.

We'd already eaten half the dish when it occurred to us to take a picture

Tim and I went to Sushi Damo on Saturday afternoon, just after the lunch crowd. There's nothing quite like post-coital seafood. And that sentence is wrong on so many different levels. Not a hint of Tuna was to be found.... But the rolls were wonderful: the Eel Special Roll, and the Mango Sensation. I think I can speak for Tim (and Me!) and heartily recommend both creations. I have no idea how "authentic" these rolls are, but sinking back into the taste and delight of the moment makes that judgment wholly irrelevant, for at least this particular lunch time.

Sunday, Ron and I attended a (very) (gay) pool party in the neighborhood. The looksist and ageist demons were dancing in my head while I was attending this spectacle. Bawdy ballads, anyone? Care to hear about the latest naked sightings of young male celebrities? Are you interested in knowing the real inside dope between Sal Mineo and Tony Perkins? I thought so. The aforementioned Spinach Colcannon was devoured in its entirety. One-half pound of melted cheese just about guarantees a cleaned out dish at a potluck of this caliber, although I continue to be dumbfounded and amazed at the results and my reaction to those results. Sometimes, I just want to turn in my card, and slink back into the slimy shadows from which I emerged after Stonewall.

Stigma and the Supreme Court

Elena Kagan is not a lesbian. Ruth Marcus, a columnist in the Washington Post, said so, and of all people, Ruth should know (evidently). Oh, and the White House also announced that Elena Kagan is not a lesbian. I needed to know this.

Are There Wedding Bells in My Future?

Let me state right off that I feel ambivalent about the subject of same-sex marriage in general, but maybe not about my same-sex marriage in particular. I think that anybody who wants to get married should be able to get married. Deep down inside, I'm pretty sure I want to get married. I'm not convinced that marriage is the gay issue, but it has come down to that ever since the Massachusetts court ruled in favor of same-sex marriage.

So where does this find me and Ron? I was talking with a friend last night, and he and his partner have decided to get married. Like us, they live in Maryland. They will go to the District in a few days and get their license. Soon after, they'll tie the knot. Two square dancers that I know, also from Maryland, danced down the aisle together last week. The reason for all this activity is that Maryland Attorney-General Douglas Gansler has ruled that Maryland will recognize out-of-state same-sex marriages.

The square dancers married for love. My other friends married for the benefits that Maryland offers married couples. Perhaps Ron and I should get married for the showers. After 27 years, lots of stuff begins to wear out, and nothing matches anymore. Is that a good enough reason to get married?

For all practical purposes, Ron and I have tied all the legal knots that we can to make sure that we remain together and that our wishes our followed in times of illness or death. Admittedly, marriage would make much simpler (and considerably less expensive) what we have done with trusts, will, and powers of attorney (and several thousand dollars). And marriage would add a guarantee about our intentions that all of our legal work can't, because under the eyes of the law, in spite of everything we have done, we are still regarded as two unrelated adult men who live at the same address.

Should we get married? Will you search out our bridal registry? Should I wear white?

Pirates

Not every pirate has a beard,
an eyepatch, or a wooden leg.
Pirates come in all disguises
big and small, thin, fat - all sizes.
Country boy though I was reared
I've cultivated pirate beard.
But beard does not a pirate make
Unless you're in the Caribbean
Staring at the salty ocean
entertaining pirate notions.
Then, a beard is quite in fashion
to flame an inner pirate passion.
No lusty wench with which to wake
I'll gladly bed the Captain's mate.
My beard in search of pirate treasure
found a friendship and love's pleasure.

For the Record

I'm pleased to announce that the clutter in the office is gone. Stay tuned for pictures.

War and Peace

I'm grateful that I'm not President Obama. Peace Prize, indeed! I'm going to have to read the text, but (taking a cue from some "conservative" pundits (those are called Palin quotes)) I feel that I can confidently comment on the presidential remarks without having a clue as to what he actually said. One thing that the "conservatives" have added to the rhetorical context is the implicit permission they give to all other commentators to mindlessly and stupidly remark about the sad and disastrous state of the world.

Earlier today, I heard Andy Williams sing the Battle Hymn of the Republic. My thoughts about the President's speech somehow got caught up in the lyrics of Julia Ward Howe's hymn. Her God brooks no nonsense, and He's well-armed. That sounds similar to the U.S. military in Afghanistan, and we may be engaged in a holy war, although not perhaps the war that Ms. Stowe imagined, or the President intends. Ms. Stowe's war killed 600,000 soldiers, a whole generation of America.

Fight a war to keep the peace? Is God on our side? Does might make right? I pray for our President.

Thanksgiving: Revised

Wow, I had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend, thanks to my friends and family, some great cooks, stunning conversationalists, and unintended irony from foreign nationals. For what could I lack? Of course, it was a wonderful holiday!

I had some misgivings about my vegetarian cornbread dressing, but when it came out of the oven, I knew it was a winner: too bad I didn't write down the recipe. Cornbread dressing is, perhaps, my favorite seasonal affective disorder medicine. It also cures rabies and erectile dysfunction, honestly, it does. It's the perfect accompaniment to anything on the holiday table, including very dry gin martinis.

Ron made some Road Kill Cabbage (okay, Rodkaal), a Danish delight that will undoubtedly grace our table in the future. Ron has a remarkable touch when it comes to cabbage; he's quite a Brassica oleracea Linne chef. The great thing about cabbage is its anti-inflammatory properties, as well as a source of vitamin C and Riboflavin. That's why I eat cabbage. I'm thankful for cabbage.

Most importantly, I'm thankful for my friends. We shared Thanksgiving, and the day after with friends, and had a wonderful time, talking and eating - two activities that complement each other. I love to eat. I love to greet, and I love Thanksgiving.

A Bunch of Who-Haw

Two days ago, I received a letter from a certain public-spirited organization (whose positions, I support). The envelope has the following emblazoned across the front, "Do you think the government should tell you what to believe, how to live, and whom to love?" The envelope also informs anyone perusing it the it contains "REGISTERED MATERIALS. TO BE OPENED BY ADDRESSEE ONLY. The envelope also contains a "Sealed Survey Enclosed for Addressee."

Even as I write this, I am opening the envelope. I can hardly wait to see the Sealed Survey Enclosed for Addressee. But first, the cover letter.... This organization knows me well, because all of its appeals are based on my own political and social views. While I do not consider my politics extreme, I do know that they are not mainstream, and the tenor of the letter is not nuanced. And perhaps for supporters, an organization doesn't want nuance, but I do want some. I want some thoughtful reflection in fundraising letters, in sealed surveys, in discourse that examines the important issues of today. I'm tired of the cheerleading.

This could be a very long post, and if you wish, you can just skip the rest of this, just a warning!

The cover letter states that the enclosed Personal Freedom Survey "... is [my] chance to speak out on the current state of personal freedom in America." So I'm going to do that, statement by statement.

• Do you believe that the government should always need an individualized warrant to obtain access to Americans' private information, including phone, email and banking records?

  I think I understand what's behind this statement: concern about an overreach of our government's police and security agencies. I don't believe that citizens have an unqualified right to privacy, so no, I don't believe that the government should always need an individualized warrant to obtain access to private records. I trust in our judiciary to draw the fine line.

  Our Constitution is muddy. Our politicians and jurists (and citizens) should be asking not only what does our Constitution say about privacy (evidently, not very much), but also what notions of privacy do we want to weave into our society. But that debate and implementation need to follow the constitutional promises of search and seizure and due process.

• Do you support the use of your tax dollars to fund abstinence-only education that promotes a particular religious viewpoint while denying young people access to reliable information about conraception?

  Okay. Certainly the public schools shouldn't be teaching that kids shouldn't be having sex because Jesus says they shouldn't. But maybe the public schools should be saying that early sexual exploration is not a good idea. I do believe that middle school and high school students in public schools should be taught truthful information about puberty, the biology of sex, sexuality, contraception, abstinence, and responsible choices. I know some parents don't want their children taught about sexuality in the public schools, and some accommodation should be made for their religious beliefs.

  The core principle, though, should be that sex education should be fact based (all the facts, please), as well as values based, and the values must be taught without reliance on religious teaching or attribution.

• Are you alarmed by efforts like Proposition 8 in California, which seek to single out and limit the rights of one group of people based on their sexual orientation?

  Of course I'm alarmed about any effort that would seek to limit constitutional rights to any group of persons, based on an intrinsic physical or genetic trait of the persons in that group. The implication of this action by the voters of California goes far beyond the actual Proposition 8, and establishes the right of a majority of exclude a minority from constitutional protections. It's a huge problem.

• Do you believe that strengthening the wall separating church and state is fundamental to the health of our democracy and that our laws should be based on the Constitution, not on any one religious view?

  I'm leery of the term strengthening, because use of that word assumes that the wall between church and state has somehow been weakened. I think the religious conservatives who proclaim that our nation's founders were inspired by God, and that we began as a Christian nation are being irresponsible with the historical facts of our nation's founding. Washington, Jefferson, Adams, and Franklin all had what would be considered nonconforming beliefs with just about any strain of today's fundamental and pentacostal denominations.

  These men knew firsthand the perils of state-supported churches. They clearly espoused a society with a diversity of belief, or non-belief. That vision should continue to serve our nation. Laws that favor religion run afoul the constitutional prohibition of the government not establishing religion. On the other hand, religious practice that runs afoul the law of the land requires that religious practice be given close scrutiny to prevent the government from persecuting citizens solely on the basis of their religious practice.

• Do you believe that state-by-state efforts to restrict access to abortion and birth control are making it harder and harder for millions of women to protect their health and defend their fundamental freedom?

  This cover letter is hitting all the big issues. Abortion is a settled right in constitutional law. Unfortunately, medical science has radically changed the circumstances of pregnancy since Roe v. Wade was decided in 1973. I think that many of the state efforts are reprehensible. I believe these efforts are detrimental to the respect of the rights of women, and to constitutional law. Having said that, I recognize that these efforts will continue, and maybe that is a good thing, because these efforts (on both sides of this question) force the debate to continue: abortion is a truly bad end to any pregnancy, but so far our society has refused to provide the kind of resources, education, contraception, adoptive alternatives to stop abortion. Our society is not yet serious about finding a way to end unwanted pregnancies.

  Also, each pregnancy carries its own circumstances. Women have compelling reasons for visiting an abortion clinic. For the vast majority, their decisions are painful and difficult. The state laws establishing juvenile reporting, waiting periods, and mandatory counseling only compound the women's pain, while doing nothing to resolve their impossible situations. These laws have a particular kind of cruelty.

• Do you oppose the promotion of religion in our public school through the teaching of creationism and intelligent design?

  Public schools should provide a secular, factual education. If, for example, I belonged to a religion that taught that the earth was the center of the universe, and that the sun and the planets circled the earth, should I demand that those beliefs be taught in the public schools? I suppose I could clean those beliefs up a bit, and talk about a Ptolemaic System, so that the courts and the public might be fooled into thinking that my beliefs were scientific, instead of a rehash of a creation story in my religion's bible. Are my demands justfied now that I have a "secular" version of my beliefs to teach in the public schools?

  The problem of many religions is that their belief systems are closed and circular. Their specific beliefs are not amenable to scientific analysis. Belief trumps science every time. And so, some school districts demand that science teachers teach their students "secular" lies about scientific truth. Consequently, those students understand the world in a fundamentally different way than it exists, and the students are disadvantaged in other parts of their academic pursuits and careers.

  Of course, private and religious schools should be able to teach their values and their beliefs. But students still need to be accountable for knowing the scientific explanation of evolution, which does not include creationism and intelligent design.

Okay, I applaud the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) for the work that it does, but I am disturbed that it sends out a letter that uses loaded language, and passes off a poll that seems designed to push for a particular response, rather than truly find out my opinion on its various subjects. More to the point, the organization wants money, which probably explains most of the language and rhetoric of the piece. I guess I'm OD'd on propaganda.

"Do you think the government should tell you what to believe, how to live, and whom to love?" Well, it sure would have made things a lot easier! If, I needed a boyfriend replacement, the government would just send me one! Why didn't I think of that?

District 9

Ron and I went to see District 9 on Friday. It's a compelling, believable film about the Other. Human kindness doesn't fare too well here. This is sci-fi movie making at its finest. This is an action flick with attention to story. You'll come out of the theater scratching your head and wondering is this what humanity means.

A Somber Thanksgiving Tale

The siege in Mumbai is over. The 15 terrorists have been killed or captured. 145 or more people died, and over 350 people were injured. We can expect more terrorist attacks will occur. More people will be killed, if not in India, then in Pakistan, Iraq, Algeria, Spain, the United States. Pick a place.

In the coming days, the security experts will theorize about the group or mind behind the plot. Governments around the world will condemn the attacks and several will rattle some sabers. Mumbai will bury the dead. I don't understand the religious, social, and political thought behind these attacks. I don't understand why anyone would want to kill and maim people who just happened to be in the wrong places at the wrong time.

Oh, I know the terrorist claimed to be targeting Britons, Americans, and Jews, but tell that to the families of the hotel workers, or the widow of the police commander. These terrorists shot and bombed indiscriminately whoever was in range, whoever was in front of them.

The analysts say that the terrorists act out to disrupt economic growth, to sow fear, to stoke religious intolerance, to wreck tourism and development, to inflame xenophobia. And the immediate aftermath of a terrorist attack may accomplish all of that and more.

Very soon when the numbness caused by the attack turns to anger, the anger turns to action, and then there's Hell to pay. Tit for tat, eye for an eye, 10,000 times over, payback is always demanded. Where is Jesus' other cheek? Where are Gandhi's sandals? Where is Martin's pen writing in the Birmingham jail?

One of the Indian survivors remarked that the men carrying out the assaults in Mumbai looked so ordinary, young guys in t-shirts and jeans. Maybe this current wave of terrorism started as a religious jihad, but now it's ordinary guys, killing for what?

October 15, 1987

Here's some history that Ron saved, a letter to my parents written twenty years ago after a gay civil rights march in Washington DC

Dear Mom & Dad,

This is the third day I've stayed home this week with the October yukkies. I should have stayed home yesterday, but didn't, so today I feel like a piece of brain dead cupcake. Ron and I pushed too hard on the weekend, and I just got too strung out.

And what a weekend! We had seven houseguests - two from Oregon (Kim and Ron), two from California (Bob & Kat), and one each from Florida (Howie), Massachusetts (Zev), and New York (Michael). Bob and Kat arrived a week ago, stayed with us over the weekend, then went on to New York City. All of the guests then descended on us last Friday, and the last of them left on Tuesday.

The occasion was the National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights. The event was like a very large family gathering, all 500,000 of us. We participated in activities all weekend long. Friday evening was spent getting people settled, and just talking. It was the first time in 4-1/2 years that Kim, Bob, and I had been together. So we shared a lot of dumb Hanford stories, and probably bored everyone else to tears.

Saturday started out early for Kim (and Michael, too), Kat, and me. We went to Arlington National Cemetery to be part of a national Frontrunners group escorting Brent Nicolson-Earle in to Washington, D.C. There was a short press conference at the cemetery, then we ran across Memorial Bridge up the Mall in front of the Capitol, and ended at the Ellipse behind the White House. Brent said a few words at a brief memorial service for those who have died with AIDS. He is running around the country, raising funds for local AIDS caregiving groups. He has already run through 38 state capitals, and he's still running. He averages a run of 22 miles each day.

After the run, we came home to change. Ron, Kim, and I went to lunch. Kat and Bob left for downtown, and Kim was supposed to join his Ron after lunch. (Ron was downtown sightseeing. There aren't many museums in Eugene, Oregon, so Ron was in Heaven, "And they're all free!")

Ron and I hadn't made any particular plans for the afternoon, but he wanted to go see the "wedding." A group had organized a wedding for Gay couples Saturday afternoon. I was leery of it, thinking that it could be really awful - visions of inappropriate heterosexual and patriarchal models (no offense intended) - everything that Ron's and my relationship isn't. Furthermore, the ceremony was publicized as non-sectarian, and again, I had visions of a ceremony full of sentimental mish-mash, and robbed of its sacred promise to bless a relationship. Needless to say, I had misgivings about even being in the same state, much less attending. But Ron really wanted to go.

So we hopped in the car at 1:40 (it began at 2 o'clock) and raced down to the Mall. Parking was awful, but we arrived at 2:10, and hadn't missed anything. Immediately, I knew that this wasn't an ordinary wedding. 3 blocks of Constitution Avenue were jammed with couples, many in wedding outfits, many in "good" clothes, and some in jeans. Karen Thompson spoke to us. Her partner, Sharon Kowalski, was injured in an auto accident several years ago, and after a bitter custody battle with Sharon's parents, Karen has not been allowed to see Sharon for three years. Other stories were told about lovers who could not visit a sick partner in the hospital, and parents who refused to respect a partner's wishes regarding funeral arrangements - those kinds of activities that are never questioned for straight, married couples. What I want in my partnership with Ron is respect - respect for our wishes, respect for our life together.

At first, I thought the wedding ceremony might be a mockery of what I consider to be a sacred and holy act - two people committing their lives to each other. But in the events of the afternoon I came more clearly to see other things. First of all, society makes a mockery of our relationships by refusing to recognize them. Worse than that it despises our relationships by having sodomy laws on the books, by refusing custody and visitation to Gay couples, by denying us in a hundred little ways the right to be a family. I mean, I love Ron, and he's more than a friend or a roommate. He's my partner and lover.

So when the invitation to participate in the wedding was made, Ron and I moved into the crowd. We held each other's hands, and we made promises to each other, promises that will strengthen our relationship, but more than that, promises to reaffirm our love and our family. I realize that no society, no institution, no person or power can set apart our relationship; Ron and I have to do that together. Even though church and state withhold their sacraments and recognition, none of that makes our promises to each other less binding. We made holy promises because we made them holy.

We stood in the midst of thousands of other couples who were doing the same thing. There were not many dry eyes. All of us realized the solemnity and the joy of the day. At the end of the ceremony, hundreds of balloons were set free, rising into the sky with our own hopes and dreams. We congratulated the couples around us and they congratulated us. Several couples broke out champagne to toast their wedding. Lots of rice was thrown (I still have some in my shirt and pants). So I think that October 10 will be a special date and anniversary for us.

But that isn't all! After the wedding, we went to an open house that a couple from St. Margaret's were hosting. We also invited our out-of-town guests to go (the hosts said the more, the merrier). We had an enjoyable time meeting many other people from around town and around the country.

Washington was really amazing over the weekend. As one of our guests said, "It's like someone waved a magic wand and turned the city into fairyland." It's a wonderful feeling, seeing and being among so many Lesbians and Gay man. I felt very, very happy.

Back to the story, When we left the open house, Ron went home to help Howie with dinner (Howie wanted to cook us a big meal). I went on to a Fronrunners reception being held at one of the downtown bars. The Onyx is an old bank building, and the bar has incorporated all of the bank furnishings. Lots of marble. The reception was very nice. About 300 Frontrunners came from around the country. I talked at some length with an FR from San Francisco. He's a former priest, and he had an interesting story. I stayed until about 7:30, then I headed back to Silver Spring.

Well, dinner was supposed to be at 8, but we started eating at 10:30. However, Howie did prepare a wonderful and tasty meal, even if he did destroy every single dish, bowl, and utensil in the kitchen. One of his dishes was bulgar burgers, and we still have enough in the freezer to feed the Austrian army. Howie made a mite too much.

In a way, I was glad we ate so late, because we had an opportunity to do lots of talking. Ron's friend, Joey, from New York City came to dinner, and brought another guest as well. So we had lots of good talk, good food, and dirty dishes. (I did a lot of the dishes after dinner, but we were still finding survivors in the rubble on Tuesday.)

Sunday dawned too early. Nine sleepy guys had to get ready for the biggest event we'd ever been in. Most of us (not me, though) had breakfast, but Howie and I decided to go for a run, which we did. I took him around parts of Sligo Creek Parkway, and we did about 5 miles. After ablutions, we took the Metro downtown, in several different groups (Howie took his car). The march was stepping off from the Ellipse, which was crowded with hundreds of thousands of people. We found the Pacific Northwest contingent (including Idaho). Meanwhile, Ron and I got press passes (he's covering it for the upcoming AIDS issue of C&EN). I was his assistant and helped carry his bag, etc. I also asked people, a couple of times, to hold their banner this way or that way so that Ron could get a better picture. The press pass earned me some instant, if undeserved, respect.

When the march stepped off, Ron and I stepped out in front to get pictures of a group of Persons with AIDS (PWAs) in wheel chairs. Many of them were badly ravaged by the disease. Ron got lots of pictures, trying to work in the White House and other public buildings as backdrops to the march.

We continued taking pictures, but eventually joined the march itself, on Pennsylvania Avenue, near the Old Post Office. We marched with the Washington, Oregon, and Idaho contingents (we met Kim and Ron with the Oregon group). The Idaho group had a clever little shout that spelled out "IDAHOMO" (they also sang the state song), and the Oregon people were singing to the tune of Row Row, Row Your Boat: "We're from Oregon / Lesbians and Queers / Gaily, Gaily, Gaily, Gaily / We've been there for years." The Oregon people were rather shy and retiring, like Garrison Keilor's Prairie Home Companions, - granola in flannel shirts. Washington, on the other hand, was a band of organized activists. But my heart was truly with Idaho - most of whom were transplanted compatriots. Like true Idahoans, they were out for a good cowboy time on a Saturday night. Their cheer brought lots of laughter, and their (I should say our - I mean I shouted myself hoarse) rendition of "Here We Have Idaho" was quite good.

Other groups of note included the Gay Mormons with a few bent elders, some corn fed Iowa Queers (as they called themselves), and a large contingent from the Show Me State. Every state except South Dakota had a contingent.

And people everywhere. The march stepped off at noon, and the end of the march reached the Mall at 5:15. Official estimates of the crowd were over 200,000, but unofficial counts indicated about a half million people. It was the second largest demonstration in D.C.

Also on the Mall was a large quilt composed of panels memorializing persons who had died from AIDS. The quilt covered the area of two football fields. People could walk on walkways on the quilt - it was a very somber memorial, lots of tears. I walked along the edge, and a woman came up to me and we hugged each other. The quilt brings home the enormity of the human suffering caused by this awful disease. It also serves as a reminder about the negligence of this administration that has done next to nothing to help the sufferers and educate the public. These people need love but are shunned by a hysterical public. They need shelter, but are turned out of their homes. They need work but are fired by their employers. They need medical care but are made destitute and dependent by the enormous cost of the disease.

Kim came up to me after he saw the quilt. He fell on my shoulder and wept. I held him for a long time.

That's enough for now. I'm going back to bed. Love, John & Ron.

P.S. Mom and Dad in the polemic about marriage, I want to reassure you just how much Ron and I appreciate your support for our relationship. Your love, prayers and concerns have been a strength for me in the years Ron and I have been together. You have blessed our family in your words, and in your deeds.