All's Well That Ends Well

Let me begin by saying that everything is fine.  The threat was only perceived, no real.

So, here's the story.

On Monday, when I picked up the mail, there was a playing card in the mailbox.  A Barack and Michelle Obama playing card, the ace of spades.  I thought this was odd and wondered what was going on.  Bud, who must have been reading about mushrooms, told me it could be laced with mushroom bits that would seep in my skin and kill me.  Huh.  Of course, then I thought of the anthrax scare in the mail that killed a woman here in Connecticut after September 11th.  But Bud didn't know any of that.  Still, I laughed and put the card in the recycling.

On Tuesday, I came home from taking the kids to the doctor for vaccinations and noticed the flag on the mailbox was up, which I would swear it hadn't been when I left.  There, inside, was another playing card.  Barack and Michelle Obama, king of spades.  What the hell was this?  Who was leaving these?  What did it mean?  We've lived here 15 years, have had no trouble with the neighbors.  But, when I posted my question to FB, most of my friends encouraged me to call the police and the postmaster, viewing it, like I did, in a suspicious light.  It wasn't kids--kids were at school during the day.  Why spades?  The ace of spades, I learned quickly, was not only a racial slur but a folkloric indication of death.  Was it a countdown, from aces to king to . . . ?  What would happen at the end of the suit?  But why black racism?  I would understand something to do with our being lesbians and a bi-racial Chinese-Caucasian family, but spades?  Was it a general comment on our being Democrats?  Only people who know us know that--there were no political signs or bumper stickers outside our house.  So, did this person know us?  Questions swirled, fears grew.   It escalated.

The police came and made a report, also being suspicious and cautious.  They handled the playing card very carefully but said there was nothing they could do.  Yet.  The postmaster was shocked and concerned, promising to alert the postal authorities and our mail carrier.  These kind of things often get escalated to the FBI because the mailbox is federal property.

Meanwhile, on FB, concerns and suggestions mounted.  Mama came home and installed web cams so we could find out who was leaving the cards.  We pondered options, decided not to alert the children that we'd received a second one; we wanted them to feel safe in their own home.  I spoke to the school social worker, as a precaution; she was worried.  I contacted our minister, who suggested we leave the person a note.  I called my parents, who were ready to come at a moment's notice; grateful, Mama and I debated when that would be.

It was a restless evening, though I think we faked it well.  Early the next morning, I got a text.  A mom had spoken to a child to see if anything odd was in their own mailbox.  Like what, the kid wondered.  A playing card.  Information came out.  Two friends on the way to the bus stop.  A card found on the way.  Placed in our mailbox, because we are the bus stop house, and I didn't notice right away that it was there.  Another card the next day, again placed in the mailbox, flag up.  I didn't see the flag until later.  The mom read the child the riot act, but I was relieved.  The friend confirmed it at the bus stop.  Two different cards, two different days.  An innocent act that sparked a wildfire of anxiety and concern in the dangerous conditions liberals know that we live in.  Had we acted too hastily?  What if it had not been random and meaningless?  When do you know you are in danger?  To you risk it, with children?  We could have spared ourselves much anxiety if we hadn't worried.  What will we do next time?

We were relieved.  We told everyone that it was okay.  We didn't identify the children.  We were just glad.

And yet.  This was just a taste of the threats, insinuations, discrimination, prejudice, inequality, and violence that many people in minority and religious groups face now in our country, led by the man who leads our country.  We had a whole community of support, here and across several states; we had resources; we had the cooperation of the authorities; we had options.  This is privilege.  Many aren't so lucky.  The mail carrier told me she'd been through a similar incidence with a Muslim family in town receiving threats in the mail.  What happened to them, I wonder?  And we only had 48 hours of it--long enough for us, and it was innocent--some have a lifetime.  This is not the America I want.  And so my family will take this opportunity to commit ourselves to those who are threatened, harrassed, intimidated, and hated.

Rainbow Love and Marriage

As you can well imagine, Friday was a wonderful, emotional day of us here in the Hungry household.

And I had barely remembered that the SCOTUS would be handing down their ruling, except I saw something about it that George Takei posted on FB about it.  So I posted on my timeline a letter to SCOTUS asking for them please to give legalized same-sex marriage in all 50 states to Mama for her birthday, which was that day.

Less than an hour later, I picked up my phone and saw the NYTimes breaking news alert.

The kids were playing a computer game, when I burst into tears.  Both ran over to see what was the matter.  When I told them, we all hugged.

I called Mama crying; she hadn't heard.  I think she was as surprised as I was.  Truly, I figured the court would vote against it.  I never expected that they would pass it.  Sure, 5-4, but a miss is as good as a mile, my dad says.

I called Gommie and Pop, who I knew were in a media black-out at the bay--they hardly even get signal, much less news (and who would want to, with the burning of 6 black churches and the massacre of 39+ tourists at a beach in beautiful Sousse, Tunisia--I was there in 1990 and am so saddened by the extremism attacking their country.)  They cheered and we all got sniffly and they promised to celebrate.  They are so amazingly supportive of us and have rooted for same-sex marriage and rights all the way.  Thanks, Mom and Dad, and Hannah, for your constant acceptance, love, support, and enthusiasm.  Fly that rainbow flag!

We immediately decided to make another rainbow cake, like we did two years ago on Mama's birthday to celebrate the federal approval of same-sex marriage in states that had legalized it, including our own.  We got cake mix and ice cream at the store, deciding to make it a pineapple upside-down cake, which is one of Mama's favorites.  A rainbow pineapple upside-down cake!



I spent the rest of the day checking FB off and on, sharing everything remotely rainbow:  a cartoon of the lowering of the Confederate battle flag and the raising of the rainbow pride flag; a compilation of photos of all the buildings lit rainbow, including the White House and Disney Castle; a collection of rainbow pride ads; thank-yous to the various plaintiffs; the photo of the running of the interns to take the decision to the waiting media; the LOTR-inspired "I am NO Man" meme of the three female justices; a gathering of FB memes including Obama on a rainbow unicorn; the meme about the battle between Skittles and the Confederate flag; the Star Wars meme about "a million homophobes cried out and were suddenly silenced"; the funny conservatives "moving to Canada" meme (where there has been gay marriage for 10 years!); the SCOTUS decision haiku;  the cartoon of God out of lightening strikes to destroy gays--"All we have in stock are rainbows"; a link to Obama's speech; a link to the full 100+ page decision; a pic of Ben & Jerry's I Dough, I Dough honorary flavor; the "can we just call it 'marriage' now?"; and the exploding FB rainbow computer meme, plus many others.  And yes, I changed my profile picture to a rainbow image of Mama and I where we met.  Yep, I was a part of the social media rainbow.  And the glow is still with me.

When Mama got home, we celebrated both her birthday--with lots of rainbow-wrapped presents--and of course, the ruling with the gay cake (beautiful but not all that tasty; it was a box mix that used egg whites instead of full eggs probably to preserve the color, but it made a tasteless, light cake.)  Lots of hugs, some more tears, and occasional sharing of rainbow FB posts.  I'm not even sure I can articulate most of what I'm feeling and why.  We've been lucky to have this kind of support from our families and community for years; it was great to see it backed up legally and to have gay and lesbian folks receive this legal support for the first time and hopefully their loved ones and families will come around--in fact, the first lesbian I knew and the first woman who kissed me can now marry her longtime girlfriend!

And I'll admit that I was not just a little happy that SCOTUS delivered a kind of "f**k you" to conservative homophobes.  The fact that some will now willingly disregard the ruling (I'm looking at you, Texas Attorney General Paxton) because they don't like it and are sore losers makes me crazy (insert meme comparing Christians who want their brand of religion to be the rule of the US to the Islamic Sate.  Quippy but true.)    But I'm still glad we won.  (It has been a pretty good week for liberals, for a change.)

We're still thrilled, of course (and perhaps a little amazed) and I have been ignoring, for the most part (see previous rant), the negative reactions.  Just basking in the win . . . .

Twenty years to the week after I first met Mama . . . . . Happy Birthday, Mama!!

It just got better!

Not Harry Potter's OWL

Our kids began OWL classes.

No, much to their disappointment, this was not Hogwarts's Ordinary Wizarding Levels.  Instead, it was the Unitarian Universalist Association's Our Whole Lives curriculum on sexuality, identity, and health for elementary school kids, including tools on coping with the expression of these in popular culture.  (It's not the mysterious film we watched in segregated groups in 5th grade that was nothing more than a Kotex ad.)  Mama and I were thrilled this was a topic that the UUA addressed and knew the kids would be taking it before they were even born.  Our first congregation hadn't offered it in years, just one of the reasons we switched.

And so Sunday morning, before church, found them sitting in the OWL class.

No, I don't know how it went.  "What happens in OWL, stays in OWL."  They can tell me what they learned but not what other kids asked.  The two teachers--especially trained by the UUA, a man and a woman--had given us parents a detailed handout about the different sessions (on such topics as puberty, sexual orientation, "lovemaking," health and safety, decision-making), complete with vocabulary list so we all used the proper terms.

Of course, hearing that many of their peers and classmates hadn't discussed sex or the like with their folks (and these are UUs!  I expected it of my Catholic friends, who have begged me to tell my kids not to say a word to theirs, to preserve their "innocence."), we wondered if we had said too much too soon.  Being a non-traditional family that created their children in a less-than-natural way, however, the topic arose pretty early.  They asked; we told. In fact, they both read the main book of the course, It's Perfectly Normal, last year.  (I highly recommend it; that, and the American Girl one, The Care and Keeping of You 1 & 2.)    Now, as fully informed as any fourth graders, they just roll their eyes at me when the topic arises.

Most of the time.

"Mom," Sis asked on Friday, "why do all the songs on the radio talk about sex?"

Um . . . because it's geared to (and often performed by) hormonal teenagers who are exploring their bodies, identities, and relationships and/or adults nostalgic for (or stuck in) that phase??  Sis thought the song "Animals" must be about fluffy bunnies or something--not people smelling and preying upon and "eating" (I kid you not) each other--because she couldn't understand the lyrics.*

OWL came just in time.

-=-=-=-=-=-

*excerpt from "Animals" by Maroon V

Baby, I'm preying on you tonight
Hunt you down eat you alive
Just like animals, animals, like animals-mals

Maybe you think that you can hide
I can smell your scent from miles
Just like animals, animals, like animals-mals

Piano Guys and Gals

This morning, Sis lay down on our piano bench and played "Old Susanna" upside down--just like Mozart in the movie, Amadeus.

Why?

Because she was inspired by the Piano Guys concert we attended last night.

Similarly, Bud was practicing cello first thing this morning, even thumping the body and spinning his instrument.

All because of the Piano Guys.

Bud also loved that they played "his" song from the Peanuts Gang . . .in a nursing home (they showed a video), just like he will on Sunday with the piano club.

I'm not sure when we first heard of them.  I think perhaps it was a FB video of a Star Wars cello duel. 

But pretty soon, they were everywhere.  Mama seemed to come upon them separately, knowing a video where the musicians pluck and bow the inside of a grand piano.  One of the young ladies in our piano club played some of their songs, including "Waterfalls" and "Secrets."  And our piano teacher then mentioned that they were going to be in concert nearby.

So we got tickets.  And went last night.

They were fabulous!  Mixing Christmas carols with pop tunes, original compositions with well-known tunes, sometimes played traditionally, but more often than not, played more originally with loops, thumping, plucking, using their heads, elbows, and even toes and feet!!  Though it was well past their bedtimes, the kids were enthralled.

And all Mama and I could think of was Mormons.

See, unbeknowst to us, the musicians are members of the Latter-Day Saints (LDS.)  As you probably know, the wealthy and powerful (and growing) LDS church contributed funds and power to overthrowing California's Proposition 8, regarding same-sex marriage, which they are firmly against.  On a personal level, I know only one Mormon, who is also against same-sex marriage; we've discussed it briefly--in my house, of all places.  She has stated that she respects the love I have for my family--and so we manage, as co-Girl Scout leaders.  Conversely, I respect her beliefs and support her right to them . . . up to the point that she wants to take away mine (as far as I know, she isn't a social activist per se.)  It's a tenuous friendship, where we try to stay far away from these issues.  A real case of agree-to-disagree.  

Anyway, I tend not to support organizations who actively support conservative causes, i.e. Wal-Mart, Hobby Lobby, Chick-fil-a, Domino's, Wendy's, Cracker Barrel, ad infinitum.  And so at the very first, I was a bit disappointed that some of my money, by way of tithing, must have gone to the LDS coffers.

And as I sat and listened to their beautiful music, I reflected on how prejudiced I would be if I lumped all Mormons under one roof or dismissed them out of hand.  I know it's not a monolithic group, ranging from the Fundamentalist LDS polygamists to a strong believer like my GS co-leader to the LDS feminists and even those who support gay rights.  What did I really know of the Piano Guys?  Besides their amazing talents?

Well, they made one Mormon joke--about "that's one wife per person, something you have to explain if you're Mormon"--and testified a few times (which mostly fell flat here in Connecticut.)  It dawned on me how secular CT really is, especially the circles I run in.  As a kid, I'd hear prayers to Christ at football games; there are always a few celebrities thanking God at the Oscars and Super Bowl.  But that's about it.  And, considering the proselytizing culture of LDS, it was pretty mild at the concert--just some gratitude, some witnessing of the divine that we all can feel "no matter your beliefs," one said.  I don't even think there was a table of information anywhere. 

But I still thought about it and apparently Mama did, too.  When we discussed it later (after a brief but convoluted discussion with the very sleepy kids), Mama quoted Pema Chodron on how we're all looking for enlightenment and that we should recognize that in each other; if we are bothered by other people's searches, it's probably because we're not there yet either (or something to that effect; it was late for me, too!)  As UUs, we covenant to support and promote the inherent worth and dignity of all people. And I really want to live that, even when it's somewhat challenging.  Because I do have a knee-jerk reaction about religious conservatives, perhaps particularly Mormons because of their recent political successes and increased visibility.  So, it's a practice for me, particularly to focus on the individual, not making assumptions on some stereotype of the group they belong to (like my GS friend, who is in many ways, besides religion, my doppelganger--they were at the concert, too! )--just as I want myself and family to be treated as people, not stereotypes of lesbians or Asians or Texans or whatever label fits preconceived notions. Also to be treated with respect and kindness and compassion, regardless.   It works for me and my co-leader, for whom we are each the other's teachable moment, I think.

And, I suppose, even if I am opposed politically, personally, it is best--to borrow a biblical phrase--to turn the other cheek.  I would not want to turn around and do what I don't like in return.

Though sometimes, if I do feel a bit attacked personally or in general, besides remembering the UU principle, I comfort myself that conservative LDS are losing the culture wars, much the same way Mitt Romney lost the election (even if we do seem to be backsliding, having a serious backlash to liberal politics in some realms.)

And so I sat back and enjoyed the music, especially as we all sang "Silent Night" together at the end.  Because it is that shared humanity, which we affirmed together, that matters most to me.  And we all have our own paths to it.

(Though, Mama and I agreed, if the Piano Guys used their platform and campaigned against us, per se (like Cracker Barrel used to), we probably wouldn't be buying anymore tickets or CDs.)

Tables Turned

Last week at my ENT appointment, the doctor, who has met Mama during our last several appointments, said my husband and I would have a great time at Harry Potter world.  I corrected him instantly, "Doctor, it's my wife!  You've met her."  And he apologized for making assumptions . . . and being forgetful.  It happened at my dermatologist check up again today, but I didn't bother to correct him, even though he's met Mama and treated our kids.  It doesn't bother me; if anything, I'm amused, but most of the time, I pay it no mind.

So I wondered what the woman whom I assumed was a lesbian at church on Sunday thought.  I've had several conversations with her in the previous months and, while I knew she had a somebody, she had never said who.  And she looked like a dyke (oh, as I type this it seems so retro)--slim, short hair, multiple piercings, always pants and a plain button down.  And she's a counselor, for heaven's sake--social work and psychology being big with lesbians of a certain age.  But on Sunday, she finally said a name . . . which I didn't hear because of this darned continued sinusitis and ear pressure.  So, I said, "What was her name?"

"Oh, his name is--."

I'd done it.  I'd assumed and gotten it wrong.  I laughed, waved my hand, apologized--should you apologize for thinking someone is gay?  Or straight?    She laughed and smiled, too, and we kept talking for awhile longer.

But my mind was turning.  Did she think I had only talked to her because I thought she was a lesbian?  Had I?  Would things change now that I knew she wasn't?  Why did it matter in casual conversation or friendship?  But doesn't sexual identity matter?   And, how had I gotten that so wrong?  Has that happened to her before?  Is she okay with being thought of as gay?  Is this kind of mistake something to be offended over?   How often am I wrong?  Or right?   Is this how all those straight people feel when they miss-guess about me?  How long do they think about it?  Do they worry I think they are prejudiced or whatever?  What's the best way to smooth over the awkwardness?    And shouldn't us LGBTQ folk come up with a special sign so that we can avoid all this?

It was definitely a teachable moment for me--the first time I think I've ever assumed incorrectly about someone's sexual identity outloud to that person (well, I've thought LGBTQ people were straight, but then that's not as uncommon because of the whole passing/closet thing; actually, my gaydar is pretty weak and I just usually manage not to misspeak or assume.  Can we even talk of gaydar in the 2010s?  It's not the butch/femme 50s.  Is it a post-gaydar world?).  I'm still working out what it means.

But I look forward to seeing her at church again.

A New Possibility

After more than two weeks of tending sick children, who are now thankfully well and back at school, I have a long list of things to post, from developing our family song canon to my Goodreads goal and two other challenges I've undertaken for February.  But last things first:  I want to post about the Boy Scouts.

Gommie called last night, "Are you ready to be a Boy Scout leader?"  She relayed the announcement that the BSA is considering allowing local troops to decide the gay and lesbian issue.  I told her that until the national office eliminated their anti-gay policies, we still couldn't support Boy Scouts on the local level.

But as I later read the news reports, I discovered that the BSA is actually considering eliminating discriminatory policies from their national office but leaving choices on LGBTQ leaders and scouts to the local level.

Which means we can join.

Yep, if Bud still wants to be a Boy Scout, and, if the troops in our area accept us (and I have it on the best authorities that there will be no problem on that score), we will sign up as soon as we can.

Of course, that's a lot of "ifs" but it's still much further than I expected to be while Bud was still young enough to join.

Special Days

I never know how these conversations get started, but at dinner the other night, the kids were asking about our anniversary.  This is never a simple matter because we have several to choose from:

• the day in June 1994 that we met
• the day in August 1997 when we became a couple (the date on the calendar in the kitchen)
• the day in November 2001 that we signed official domestic partner papers in NYC
• the day in October 2005 when we celebrated our civil union
• the day in December 2008 when we legally got married in Connecticut (the date on the wooden box Mama gave me as a wedding present)

There's another date, when we had friends witness some legal papers that cemented our connection, but I can't recall that one, but it predated 2001.

Anyway, about every three or four years for almost the last two decades, we can point to a date!  

So we had to explain to the kids--again--why we have so many dates and why we didn't get married in 1997, 2001, or 2005.  They have trouble comprehending "illegal."  And they still don't fully appreciate, despite our repeated assertions, how lucky we are that we can marry even now in Connecticut.  And we haven't stressed that we are only married in CT and not federally (they wouldn't understand how this costs us thousands of dollars in taxes a year), though we mention it occasionally.

The unique moment in this specific conversation was Sis's memory of our wedding in 2008. 

 

"Wait, I remember that!  I was there!"

"Yes, you were there.  Not many kids were at their parents' wedding."

And Bud chimed it, "Cool. We were at your wedding!"

I'd say that's an unexpected perq of the challenges of same-sex marriage in this country.

The Sinner and the Sin, Or National Coming Out Day

I don't often post about being a lesbian.  It's no secret, of course, and I'm not ashamed or uncomfortable.  It just doesn't come up as a subject in ways that make interesting posts, at least compared with life with twins or the craziness that was our summer.  I can only tell you for the umpteenth time that Mama was mistaken for my son--happened at the Ren Faire on Monday when a booth staffer tried to get my young fella to try his hand at a tomato-throwing game--or that I had to correct someone about the kids having two moms and not a dad--happened recently when a cashier remarked that the kids should tell their dad.

And I can only rage about the homophobia of the Boy Scouts so many times.  (Though, I could tell you about the young man who realized he was gay and came out, only to be denied his earned Eagle Scout award!  Or about the Greenwich, CT den mom who was kicked out when news got out of her den that she was a lesbian!  It's a discriminatory organization--if you support it, you support and encourage its discrimination against me. Period.  Don't tell me it's convenient or a tradition or your den isn't like that.  Because that doesn't change that the Boy Scouts have fought all the way to the Supreme Court to be able to discriminate against me.)

But I've recently been confronted with a new kind of challenge:  love the sinner, not the sin.

Yep, I have a Mormon friend.

I don't want to go into it too much, as we have a delicate friendship built on mutual interests and tolerance, but will say that  my friend absolutely believes and agrees with her church's stance against same-sex relationships and also practices the LDS stance of tolerating--but not condoning, accepting, or approving--LGBTQ people--you know, that whole love the sinner, not the sin teaching.  I guess I do something of the same--tolerate her faith while recognizing her own inherent worth and dignity (UU principle #1)--just like I love my friends even though their sons are Scouts.   I should say that, while I knew she was a Latter Day Saint, until recently I figured she might be like my Catholic friends who are fairly "cafeteria" in their selection of the Vatican's (happy 50th anniversary, Vatican II, by the way!) teachings, supporting women priests, married priests, same-sex marriage, birth control, and abortion while still taking communion and sending their kids to CCD.   Or like the liberal Mormon feminist Joanna Brooks, author of the Book of Mormon Girl, which I am reading for insight into the faith and its followers and those who have trouble following some of it (see her blog here.)

It all reminds me of the recent NYTimes Op-Ed, "We're Here, We're Queer, Y'all!, which made me mad, or sad, or a combo of the two.  Essentially, the author, Karen L. Cox, said that being LGBTQ in the rural South was okay . . . because  they don't beat you or burn your house down.

They only call adults by silly terms like "Uncle Poodle" to denote their "light in the loafer"-ness.

And refuse to openly or publicly acknowledge your relationships by calling your long-time partner just your "friend."

And disagree vehemently with the concept of same-sex marriage.

And think your homosexuality is an abomination.

I'm pretty sure I could not live somewhere (read Texas) that the majority of people felt like that about me.  It's challenging enough to have one person in my life that I know feels like that (my in-laws are a complicated, different story), though I can't articulate why or why I do it.  And I think I feel guilty, hypocritical, surprised, upset, incredulous.  It's very personal.  Which, as we all know, is very political.

Maybe, beyond the ordinary pleasures of friendship, I had hoped that I could facilitate some kind of teachable moment.

Is that how LGBTQ people in the South feel, how they get through it?  There just aren't many easy answers.

Sometimes, coming out is the easy part.

Score One for Corporate America

Okay, I know I often rail about consumerism and corporate America, but I'm here to say kudos to one of the biggest of them all:  Kraft, by way of Nabisco, which makes Oreos.

Yep, the Gay Oreo.

I guess there is one major advantage of such huge corporations:  they are so bent on profits that they'll follow and support dominant social trends, in this case LGBTQ rights.

So, for once, it's sweet to be in bed with the enemy.

Twinsies!

Mama has torn her L5/SI1 and has a protrusion in her L4/5, according to her doctor and the MRI.

She even got a lift in her right shoe because that leg is shorter.

She'll be on a course of steroids and might have a spinal injection in a few weeks.  And she has PT.

Let's just hope she doesn't become allergic to NSAIDs, too!

We didn't realize that, along with women synching up* their menstrual cycles, it can happen with musco-skeletal issues too!

The kids think it's funny that their moms are now like twins, too.


*It's an urban myth and such synchronicity really only works in large populations of women living closely together--prisons, the army, convents, sororities--not every lesbian couple.

Feathered "Family"

First penguins, now swans!

Check out the lesbian swans in Boston's Public Garden.