I
was
walking
back
home
from
the
grocery
store
and
a
black
woman
waiting for
a
bus
looked
at me
and said,
"Ohhhhhhh,
you're
one
good
lookin'
white
boy."
It's
the
little
things
that
make
me
happy.
Really.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
SOMETIMES
Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.
-- Sheenagh Pugh
Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.
-- Sheenagh Pugh
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I am patient about a lot of things but not this
And
his
kiss
lingers.
How
funny
we
humans
are.
Me,
I
guess.
I
won't
speak
for
everyone.
Why
don't
I trust
in knowing?
But,
oh,
that
kiss.
And
him.
So
gentle.
So
quirky.
Letting
light
into
my
heart.
And,
oh,
that
kiss.
I
busy
myself.
Check
caller
I.D.
Look
to see
if
I've
received
any
new
emails.
Oh,
that,
kiss.
his
kiss
lingers.
How
funny
we
humans
are.
Me,
I
guess.
I
won't
speak
for
everyone.
Why
don't
I trust
in knowing?
But,
oh,
that
kiss.
And
him.
So
gentle.
So
quirky.
Letting
light
into
my
heart.
And,
oh,
that
kiss.
I
busy
myself.
Check
caller
I.D.
Look
to see
if
I've
received
any
new
emails.
Oh,
that,
kiss.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Hang on to the pieces of the game
Lately,
I have
been
thinking
about
gifts.
My
neighbors,
friends
really,
Mary Margaret
and
Uncle Bobby,
lost
a
friend.
They
discovered
this
by
accident.
Driving
home
from
errands.
Squad
cars
and
ambulances
in
front
of
his
house.
Animal
control
searching
for
run-away
pets.
Him.
Having
died
days
ago
found
in
his
home.
And
a
call
from
Christi,
"I'm
in
the
neighborhood.
Can
I
come
over for
ten
minutes?"
And
there
at
my
front
door-
a
lost
soul.
I
roast
a
chicken.
Wonder
about
my
house.
Missing
Greta.
She
spent
the
weekend
with
Mathew.
In
this
silence
I
discover
all
these
angels
hovering
about.
Always.
It
makes
me
cry.
I
listen
to
Erik
Satie.
And
give
thanks.
I have
been
thinking
about
gifts.
My
neighbors,
friends
really,
Mary Margaret
and
Uncle Bobby,
lost
a
friend.
They
discovered
this
by
accident.
Driving
home
from
errands.
Squad
cars
and
ambulances
in
front
of
his
house.
Animal
control
searching
for
run-away
pets.
Him.
Having
died
days
ago
found
in
his
home.
And
a
call
from
Christi,
"I'm
in
the
neighborhood.
Can
I
come
over for
ten
minutes?"
And
there
at
my
front
door-
a
lost
soul.
I
roast
a
chicken.
Wonder
about
my
house.
Missing
Greta.
She
spent
the
weekend
with
Mathew.
In
this
silence
I
discover
all
these
angels
hovering
about.
Always.
It
makes
me
cry.
I
listen
to
Erik
Satie.
And
give
thanks.
To live happily ever after, even in California
To live happily ever after, even in California
By John Corvino
On election night, I was less anxious about whether Barack Obama would become president than about whether a certain little girl could marry her princess.
I’m talking about the girl in the "Yes on 8" commercial who came home from school after reading "King and King" and announced, "And I can marry a princess!"
Not in California, she can’t -- at least for the time being. Proposition 8 passed 52.5 percent to 47.5 percent, after a $74-million battle.
I say "for the time being" because nobody expects this to be the end of the story. Already, gay-rights lawyers have filed a challenge in the state Supreme Court, saying the measure is an illegal constitutional revision. The cities of San Francisco and Los Angeles did the same, as did the first couple wed in Los Angeles. It remains to be sorted out whether gays and lesbians married since June 17 will have their marriages annulled, converted to some other status or what.
Domestic partnerships will remain an option for same-sex couples in California. Other states, mainly along the coasts, will continue to recognize same-sex relationships: some with domestic partnerships, others with civil unions and a few with marriage.
Eventually, this hodgepodge will prove legally unwieldy, socially inconvenient or morally embarrassing -- probably all of the above -- and California will revisit the marriage question. If trends continue -- gay-marriage opponents drew 61 percent of the vote in 2000 but only 52 percent Tuesday -- marriage equality will prevail someday.
In the meantime, expect things to get messy. A same-sex couple married in Massachusetts (for example) will have absolutely no legal standing when traveling in California. A lesbian couple with a domestic partnership in Oregon might have to get married if they move to Connecticut. New Yorkers wed in California before the passage of Proposition 8 might have their marriage recognized by their home state but not by the state that married them. And so on.
Supporters and opponents alike will argue about whether the courts are the appropriate venue for resolving these issues. Traditionally, a key role for the courts has been to protect minority interests against the whims of the majority. One of the especially painful ironies of the Proposition 8 vote is the fact that historically oppressed minorities -- including blacks, Mormons and Catholics -- were among the measure’s strongest supporters.
It’s worth remembering, however, that the courts follow social trends more often than they set them. When the U.S. Supreme Court struck down laws against interracial marriage in Loving vs. Virginia, the majority of states already had repealed such laws. (Incidentally, California was the first.) As disappointing as the legal setbacks are, they pale in importance next to the cultural shift undeniably underway.
One thing is clear: That shift is on the side of gay and lesbian equality. More and more gay and lesbian couples are openly committing to each other, having weddings and even calling it marriage. The word is important. Princesses don’t dream about someday "domestically partnering with" the person they love. They dream about marrying him -- or, in a minority of cases, her.
To that minority, a bare majority of California voters sent a discriminatory message: You are not good enough for marriage. Your relationships -- no matter how loving, how committed, how exemplary -- are not "real" marriage.
But "real" marriage transcends state recognition of it. And that’s another reason why this debate will continue. Because it’s not just about what California should or should not legally recognize. It’s also about what sort of relationships are morally valuable, and why. And that’s a debate that, slowly but surely, gay-rights advocates are winning.
The path to inclusion is not always direct and the pace of change almost never steady. This setback is by no means a final verdict. In the coming years, gay and lesbian citizens will continue to tell our stories. We will demonstrate that, like everyone else, we are worthy of having someone to have and to hold, for better or for worse. More Americans will realize that such relationships are a good thing -- not just for us but for the community at large.
When the smoke from this battle clears, Americans will realize that gays are not interested in confusing children or in forcing princesses on little girls who don’t want them. But they also will realize that, when girls grow up to love princesses, they deserve to live happily ever after too.
John Corvino, a philosophy professor at Wayne State University, wrote this article for the Los Angeles Times.
By John Corvino
On election night, I was less anxious about whether Barack Obama would become president than about whether a certain little girl could marry her princess.
I’m talking about the girl in the "Yes on 8" commercial who came home from school after reading "King and King" and announced, "And I can marry a princess!"
Not in California, she can’t -- at least for the time being. Proposition 8 passed 52.5 percent to 47.5 percent, after a $74-million battle.
I say "for the time being" because nobody expects this to be the end of the story. Already, gay-rights lawyers have filed a challenge in the state Supreme Court, saying the measure is an illegal constitutional revision. The cities of San Francisco and Los Angeles did the same, as did the first couple wed in Los Angeles. It remains to be sorted out whether gays and lesbians married since June 17 will have their marriages annulled, converted to some other status or what.
Domestic partnerships will remain an option for same-sex couples in California. Other states, mainly along the coasts, will continue to recognize same-sex relationships: some with domestic partnerships, others with civil unions and a few with marriage.
Eventually, this hodgepodge will prove legally unwieldy, socially inconvenient or morally embarrassing -- probably all of the above -- and California will revisit the marriage question. If trends continue -- gay-marriage opponents drew 61 percent of the vote in 2000 but only 52 percent Tuesday -- marriage equality will prevail someday.
In the meantime, expect things to get messy. A same-sex couple married in Massachusetts (for example) will have absolutely no legal standing when traveling in California. A lesbian couple with a domestic partnership in Oregon might have to get married if they move to Connecticut. New Yorkers wed in California before the passage of Proposition 8 might have their marriage recognized by their home state but not by the state that married them. And so on.
Supporters and opponents alike will argue about whether the courts are the appropriate venue for resolving these issues. Traditionally, a key role for the courts has been to protect minority interests against the whims of the majority. One of the especially painful ironies of the Proposition 8 vote is the fact that historically oppressed minorities -- including blacks, Mormons and Catholics -- were among the measure’s strongest supporters.
It’s worth remembering, however, that the courts follow social trends more often than they set them. When the U.S. Supreme Court struck down laws against interracial marriage in Loving vs. Virginia, the majority of states already had repealed such laws. (Incidentally, California was the first.) As disappointing as the legal setbacks are, they pale in importance next to the cultural shift undeniably underway.
One thing is clear: That shift is on the side of gay and lesbian equality. More and more gay and lesbian couples are openly committing to each other, having weddings and even calling it marriage. The word is important. Princesses don’t dream about someday "domestically partnering with" the person they love. They dream about marrying him -- or, in a minority of cases, her.
To that minority, a bare majority of California voters sent a discriminatory message: You are not good enough for marriage. Your relationships -- no matter how loving, how committed, how exemplary -- are not "real" marriage.
But "real" marriage transcends state recognition of it. And that’s another reason why this debate will continue. Because it’s not just about what California should or should not legally recognize. It’s also about what sort of relationships are morally valuable, and why. And that’s a debate that, slowly but surely, gay-rights advocates are winning.
The path to inclusion is not always direct and the pace of change almost never steady. This setback is by no means a final verdict. In the coming years, gay and lesbian citizens will continue to tell our stories. We will demonstrate that, like everyone else, we are worthy of having someone to have and to hold, for better or for worse. More Americans will realize that such relationships are a good thing -- not just for us but for the community at large.
When the smoke from this battle clears, Americans will realize that gays are not interested in confusing children or in forcing princesses on little girls who don’t want them. But they also will realize that, when girls grow up to love princesses, they deserve to live happily ever after too.
John Corvino, a philosophy professor at Wayne State University, wrote this article for the Los Angeles Times.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Does everything remind you of an aorta now?
That's
what
changes-
isn't it?
Perspective.
It's
why
I
like
getting
older.
And
then
Michael-
or someone-
says,
"You
know
when you
were in
your
twenties
you
thought
you needed it."
Somone
else
that
is.
And
now-
becoming
so
comfortable
with
aloneness
that
when
that
somone
who
will
linger
with
me
comes
along,
well,
I
am
ready.
what
changes-
isn't it?
Perspective.
It's
why
I
like
getting
older.
And
then
Michael-
or someone-
says,
"You
know
when you
were in
your
twenties
you
thought
you needed it."
Somone
else
that
is.
And
now-
becoming
so
comfortable
with
aloneness
that
when
that
somone
who
will
linger
with
me
comes
along,
well,
I
am
ready.
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