Growing Sense

New Home-Kissing Blogger Goodbye

2006-12-22T08:46:00.000-08:00

Blogger has been giving me way too many problems lately so GrowingSense is moving to Wordpress. From now on you can find me at http://Growingsense.wordpress.com or just click HERE.

Please be patient as I figure things out over there. I already have my first post up though if you want to pop over.

BTW, if you blog at Blogger, do not "upgrade" to New (Beta)Blogger if you think you ever might want to switch to Wordpress. For some reason you cannot import archives if you switched to New Blogger. For this reason, I'll keep my archives here at Blogger.

See Ya, Blogger. See ya later GrowingSense readers!

Prairie Creek Farms Holiday Open House

2006-12-15T08:09:00.000-08:00

Duane sent me these photos from his open house (I forgot my camera), which is usually the 1st Saturday in December--Mark your calendar and bring your checkbook.

The goodies (at the "LUNCH" counter)

One of Duane's personal favorite pieces

The tree with Daniel's Train and Grandma Tia's Village. (Duane said he couldn't get a good shot with the glow of the village and the twinkle of the tree lights with his digital camera. Either the flash eclipsed the lights or it was blurry without. I think it still looks beautiful.)

Fun Snack Names

2006-12-15T05:34:00.001-08:00

Back in our break room where all the Holiday Snacks wind up, there is a box of "Jack'n Snack."

Mall Observations

2006-12-13T11:59:00.000-08:00

Sneering is never attractive, but it is an especially bad look for people with pronounced overbites.

A boy about 11-years old with a generally disinterested look on his face voluntarily held open the swinging trash can flap for me when I had to dump my tray at the food court.

A few religious traditions require that women wear long skirts, or skorts, and that they never cut their hair. Some of these women like to glam up and wear sequins, big curls, flashy jewelry, high heels, even furs. They face some of the same fashion challenges that drag queens do.

Three grown men in suits looking out of a 2nd floor window as they ate lunch made fun of a woman for talking to Santa Claus as he got into the backseat of a Cadillac.

The breadstick I had at lunch was the most garlicky thing I’ve ever eaten. I believe the scent it left with me and the fact that I was a nearly 40-year old man standing in the girls’ section of Hollister looking for clothing for my niece kind of freaked the sales girl out.

Nonchewable

2006-12-12T07:50:00.000-08:00

John felt a cold coming on the other night on the way home from a party so we stopped by the drugstore for some Vitamin C. I waited in the car for him (yes, I should have gone in to buy it for him. I can't remember what excuse I had ready for not doing so). When he got back in he said he got the flavored chewable kind of vitamin and asked me if I wanted one. I like a good chewable vitamin. I think of them as healthy Sweet Tarts. He handed me one, and as I put it in my mouth I remember thinking it was strange for a chewable vitamin to be so big and capsule-shaped.

Biting into it was like eating concentrated lemon powder mixed with aspirin. Turns out it was just a regular vitamin. At first I didn't realize it wasn't supposed to taste that way. I just remember thinking this is why I don't buy more generics. But when I couldn't swallow I asked John if he was sure these were chewable. He looked at the label, "Oh, I guess they're not. They were right next to the chewable ones though."

Claire's Bear Scare

2006-12-10T19:16:00.000-08:00

Claire and I walk the same route and argue about pretty much the same things in the same spots every morning. For instance, for two and a half months now, every time we walk up to our favorite dumpster to deposit a bag of her crap, her nose becomes a high-powered electromagnet drawn to one spot approximately four feet northeast of our drop point. She goes there because it was the final resting place of a half-eaten and tire-flattened chicken wing that she discovered back in September. It was rapturous love at first smell, and for all of the right reasons I immediately forced her to leave it alone and move on.

Moving on, however, is not one of Claire's gifts. Today the only thing left of the chicken is a greasy spot in the parking lot that, at best, smells like seasoned asphalt. None of this makes any difference to Claire whose powerful nose and imagination recreates the gnawed wing in all its glory each day. She plants her nose in that precise spot every morning knowing full well that I will be yanking her away directly. I would gladly sniff the greasy ground if it resulted in that kind of optimism.

There are other predictable rituals--the forced tug away from the place where a hot dog lay in mid-October. She snagged that one and tossed it back like a sorority girl doing shots in Cabo before I knew what she was doing. I suspect we then dropped the hot dog in the dumpster the following day, but being party to all of this doesn't keep her from obsessing over the spot where she found it. She's very sentimental.

Until today, Claire's history with us suggested there were no animals that intimidated her. I've seen her get the best of German Shepherds, make friends with enormous Rotweilers and sidle up to husky Pit Bulls for a butt sniff. This morning, however, as we walked down College St. for home, we passed a mechanical polar bear. A yard ornament about Claire's size with a little motor that moved its head from side to side in a jerky and completely unconvincing motion (at least if the effect of a polar bear surveying its bed of Boston Ivy was the desired effect). We've passed this thing at least 10 times already on prior walks, but for some reason Claire only noticed it today. She threw her hackles up and immediately ran to hide behind me. Then she started growling and eventually barking.

I wasn't sure what to do. I thought about going up to pat the bear, suggesting to Claire that he was friendly, but I was worried the homeowner would come out and think I was either stealing it or crazy(why not both?). I settled for the truly insane option of explaining to Claire that this wasn't a real bear at all. The scale and texture were all wrong. It was just a poorly conceived seasonal ornament with no logical connection to Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah or any other winter holiday. I think in her own way, Claire was trying to tell me the same thing, "this whatever-it-is doesn't belong here."

I'll be interested to see if I have a new obsession on my hands tomorrow.

The Decked Halls

2006-12-05T05:33:00.000-08:00

This is the first year I haven't put every Christmas thing I have out. I never understood why my mom didn't put it all out until this year. By the time midnight came and went on Saturday, I'd just had enough. Part of the challenge was this sparkly antiqued silver garland that I saw at Michaels and thought I might like to use. (It doesn't really look silver in the picture, but it is.) I was about to give it a pass (I could tell it would be pretty hard to work with) but David talked me into picking it up ("You know it'll be gone next week." For some reason, fear of scarcity always seems to push me over the purchasing edge.)

I like how it turned out, but I'm not sure I would do it again. It was like massaging a porcupine.

One thing it does allow me to do is show more ornaments. The one with the frowny face I bought about five years back when my friend Felley and I were shopping at Carly's in Batesville. Felley said it reminded her of the phase her daughter Clary (a two-year old at the time) was going through. She considered buying it, but said she didn't think Clary would appreciate it later. I told her I'd buy it then because it reminded me of my brother-in-law, Paul who picks on me all the time. I didn't care if he appreciated it or not. It is one of my favorite ornaments.

Since my parents are coming for Christmas this year I got a real tree. I haven't bought a real tree in probably 10 years. I wanted a Noble Fir, but there were none to be found around here, so we got this nice Frasier from Weaver's in Broad Ripple (they have the best poinsettias, too if you need them). Funny thing though, there aren't enough branches on the tree to put all my ornaments on. Thank God for the prickly garland!

When I was over at Dave's helping him move a few boxes in their garage he pulled out this little elf. It used to be on the courthouse square in Danville (the Batesville, AR of Indiana). I told him I liked it, and he insisted that I borrow it since it would go with my other decorations. I feel a little nervous about hosting a piece of Hoosier history for the holidays, but he does seem to fit right in.

Booze and Cookies 2006 (Part 2)--The Return of Team Kifle

2006-12-04T15:59:00.000-08:00

The heartier B and C’rs form Team Kifle to make the little cream cheese and powdered sugar envelopes that go around the filling. TK has to be hearty because they work outside in the freezing cold. They had to do without Julie again this year, but they picked up some new recruits. Veterans Dave and Kathy trained Duane (who felt guilty for having gotten by for the last two years without braving the cold), Eric and Marc. Dave referred to the newbies as TKIT (Team Kifle in Training).

Marc (whose fuzzy parka I admired all day) and Eric preferred the "no table, stand n’ pat” method of disk making, which raised some eyebrows but produced good product in the end.

The back porch is also where all of the beverages are kept because it’s basically a huge refrigerator. Duane brought this beautiful punch made with fresh cranberries, cranberry juice and white grape juice. I thought it was so pretty. It was great over ice, but for those who wanted mixed drinks, we added a splash of vodka. Duane called the new cocktail a “Snowbird” (I think in honor of all of the Mainers who leave the Northeast for the winter).

We don’t usually see a whole lot of Daniel and Mari until it is time to pack up cookie boxes. At that point Daniel is all business. Years of patrolling the hospitality table after church have made him a cookie expert. He also demonstrated his excellent new shoe tying abilities for me.

Finally, I love the picture of Mari below. It’s so America’s Next Top model. She's two years away from an editorial spread in the Fashion Issue of New York Times Magazine. If you look closely you may be able to see the little pink butterflies embroidered onto the shoulder of her parka. Unlike Claire, Mari pays close attention to what she wears.

We love the folks who are willing to come to our house and bake. It’s not really a sit around and relax event, but it and Duane and Todd’s Prairie Creek Studios Open House the day before always start our holiday out just right.

Booze and Cookies--2006 (Part 1)

2006-12-04T14:23:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday was Booze and Cookies 2006 and as you can see by the enormous hunk of cubed Crisco (might be cream cheese) John is holding in this picture, there were no restrictions placed on the use of hydrogenated fats (seems to be a theme with our get togethers). I went a little crazy with pictures, and I’m kind of low on post topics so I’ll be posting this in two parts.

Claire, sporting her holiday sweater with polar bear appliqué on the back, which I guess is sort of the front when it comes to dogwear since she couldn’t care less about the design on her sweater, met everyone at the door. I was so focused on not yelling at her in public that I really didn’t keep track of how well her “no jumping on people” lessons were paying off. She seems calm in this picture, but I think I caught her between leaps.

Booze and Cookies usually manages to draw a guest or two from foreign, non-Hoosier places. I call this the “‘furin’ factor.” Normally, the “furiners” drive from Arkansas or Ohio; my friend Adam from China came one year. This year we got us an Alaskan! Joe, Marc and Karen’s friend, was visiting his family in Indiana so he came with them. He’s the one in the middle of the picture above holding the container of Chocolate Cherry Cookie dough, which was his favorite cookie growing up, along with Hershey Kisses (for the tops) and required baking stone(!). And he brought index cards so people could write the recipe down!! Somebody’s momma raised him right. Oh, Marc brought a bag of ice. Actually that is what I asked him to bring. He said it was an old family recipe. Joe is a fishing guide in Alaska. Since that's what I did during the summers when I was in college we had a lot to talk about*.

Dave, shrouded in his new 13.5 foot(!) scarf Sally just made him, helps Karen and Joe put the finishing touches on the CCCs. The scarf is breathtaking by the way. Not too many accessories can take you from “Autumn in Aspen” to “Yiddish Grandmother” with just a few simple flips of the wrist.

I don’t mean to obsess over these cookies, but I was crazy about them. Timing was very important—you had to eat them when they were set, but while the chocolate on top was still warm and soft. I tried really hard to capture the glint of melted chocolate with my camera.

Some of you may wonder why Master Baker, Linda, aka John's mom, isn't in the pictures? She's in the middle of a big house remodel and thought it was better that she concentrate on that this year. The group in this picture sat down to talk about how dissappointed they were that she didn't come. Actually they're watching the Colts game, the sugar shocked mind's rest activity of choice. But Linda, if you're reading this, you were missed. Everyone was sad that you and Jim weren't there.

(Coming soon: Part II—The Return of Team Kifle)

*Just kidding--I worked at Dillard's Department Store all through college.

A Fun Holiday List

2006-11-28T13:21:00.000-08:00

Jennie, fellow list lover over at Trim and Fashionable put me onto this. Chime in with your own answers or copy the questions and answer them on your blog.

1. Egg nog or hot chocolate?

Egg nog if it is the stuff made with whipped egg whites, sugar, vanilla, nutmeg and rum. It’s like eating a tasty cloud.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?

Wrapped them with the same paper my mom and dad used. Mom evidently didn’t think much of our deductive reasoning abilities.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?

Both, mixed together. I also use the big colored lights mixed with the small ones and I like a random twinkle here and there. Outside I don’t outline corners of the house or anything. Just a lighted evergreen garland over the doorway.

4. Do you hang mistletoe?

No, but I love hearing stories about people taking their shotguns into the woods to shoot it out of trees. It's so cavemanish. A violent start for such a romantic tradition.

5. When do you put your decorations up?

In fits and starts beginning the weekend after Thanksgiving. I’ll keep putz and rearrange stuff until after Christmas. I even put out all of the ½ off after Christmas bargain decorations I buy, even if it is just for a day or two.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish?

My mom’s cornbread dressing.

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child?

My sister and I and our cousins Kara and Howard all got matching sleds one Christmas Eve at our Mamaw and Grandad’s. We were ready for bed when we opened them, but since it was one of the few Christmas Eves that it snowed when we were kids our parents let us take a quick nightime spin down the bank by the driveway in our pajamas. I hope when I get to be a parent I have the good sense my parents did not to ruin the moment.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?

My sister took me up to the attic before Christmas where our presents were hidden so we could play with our Santa gifts. Any dissappointment was offset by the knowledge that my net fun was increased by opening my presents early.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?

We open one on Christmas Eve. Sometimes John gets so excited about the things he gets me that he wants me to open more so I do. I'm just selfless that way.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree?

Anything not nailed down is fair game. My mom and Mamaw hid some of our presents in the tree. If my mamaw thought something looked Christmasy she would just go ahead and put it on there. One year she whipped up some suds from ivory soap flakes and she and I put those on her tree. We thought it looked like snow. I loved how random everything was. I’m definately a more is more tree decorator-mostly German blown glass ornmanents, but also love ones people give me. About 800 lights (I put the shiny silver balls on the inner branches so they reflect light out for more sparkle). No garland but a few years back I found three packages of the old-fashinoned heavy (I think they are actually made of lead, which is probably why they stopped selling them) shiny tinsel icicles. I put them all on. I love vintage and tons of it, but I aslo always admired Judy Nall’s restrained tree with its limited number of matching (cross-stiched) ornaments and white lights (only).

11. Snow! Love it or dread it?

Even now that I live in the cold midwest I still LOVE snow.

12. Can you ice skate?

Barely.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?

A red wool, short-waisted jacket my mom got me when I was in high school. She had seen me eyeing it in the store. The fit was perfect, and there hasn't been much in my wardrobe before or since about which I can say that.

14. What’s the most important thing about the holidays for you?

Being with family.

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert?

Fruitcake. Not really. I love a coconut cake at Christmas time. I actually do like some fruitcake now.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?

Watching White Christmas with John and a little bourbon on the rocks. We sing along to all the songs. Sometimes we dance along, too. Then, John’s mom’s Cookie Bake and our church’s Christmas Eve service.

17. What tops your tree?

A faded vintage silver star tree topper that Miss Pat (McClain) mailed to me when I was in college. She was with me when I’d admired it at an antique shop but didn’t have the money to spend on it. It showed up in my mailbox just in time for Christmas.

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving?

Buying (kidding, sort of). I’m honestly very happy doing either, but I’m never that confident in my gift giving abilities.

19. What is your favorite Christmas song?

Last Month of the Year, sung by the Blind Boys of Alabama.

20. Candy canes! Yuck or yum?

Yum. Especially big Bob-o-Canes and the ones First National Bank used to give out to customers to hang on their trees back in 1970s.

Quote of the Day

2006-11-28T04:32:00.000-08:00

Gerry Cardinale, a NJ senator is trying to keep the state from meeting its court ordered mandate (tee hee) to offer gay couples the full rights and protections of marriage. He is proposing a solution far from equal prompting Steven Goldstein of Garden State Equality to utter our quote of the day:

"...today's proposal has as much chance of passing as Gerry Cardinale's marrying Dick Cheney in the ballroom of the Baghdad Hilton."

From Blue Jersey

Smokin' Camera

2006-11-26T19:39:00.000-08:00

Not knowing how long I could keep the "good" act up, I talked Santa into dropping off one of my presents early--a new camera. It's a Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX07, and I like it a lot. It is a lot more powerful than our last camera so I'm still learning my way around it. We actually only got a few memorable shots from Thanksgiving Weekend, which is too bad because my friend Rosie visited all week from Philadelphia and we had many photo-worthy moments.

I like this one where I am teaching Claire to smoke. The cigarette is fake--a .75 piece of fun from Turandot in Broad Ripple. Dave and I bought them to shock our friends. Even though I'm horrible at fake smoking (Dave acts like he's been smoking since he was 2), the cigarette looks so real it freaks people out.

As with many things she learns that don't require listening to us, Claire was a quick study when it came to smoking.

She's really getting the hang of it here. I hope Turandot sells the fake Patch.

Chris's Vagina Monologue

2006-11-18T15:21:00.000-08:00

If you haven't popped over to Chris in Tajikistan you should. This is from his recent entry about his visit to an Uzbek village:

Some of us have this bad habit of saying.. uhm.. It’s fun in school because when you get bored you can count how many times the teachers says.. uhm.. or your friends say uhm in a presentation. Well, it’s not a habit that translates well into Uzbek because the word for vagina in Uzbek is pronounced “ahm” or “uhm.” I bet you can only imagine the trouble I get into when I’m trying to speak. So sometimes I say things like “ Today I… uhm… went to…. uhm… the store. ” which in Uzbek translates into “ Today I… vagina… went to…. vagina… the store..."

Way to represent, Chris. Lately I've been giving people rap names. I think I'm gonna start calling Chris "Uhm Daddy." Chris comes back to Indy in December. Send him a little love to let him know we're looking forward to seeing him and that we won't hold his potty mouth against him.

(Chris and friends right before he clears the room.)

Moving Up to Gloryland

2006-11-18T07:06:00.000-08:00

A Pennsylvania school board vice-president calls gay students "faggots" and a student organization designed to help gay and straight students get a long better a "sex club." From the Beaver County Times via Pams Houseblend.

Scherfel, 65, said he has nothing against anyone's sexual orientation, but that he grew up in a different generation when certain terms were acceptable in referring to gays and other groups. [Yeah, it's just generational--while we're at it, let's just give people sixty years old and above a pass when they use terms like Darkies, Blackie, etc.]

When reached at his home earlier Wednesday, Scherfel chuckled at the thought that someone would consider him a "gay basher,...I have homosexual friends believe it or not...," he said. [Really? Or do you just think they're you're friends? You might want to do a little check in. Or is this just one of the "some of my best friends are..." kind of statements?]

In better news, South Africa is poised to offer marriage rights to its gay citizens. Who knew that a country with such a horrible civil rights past would surpass the U.S. in this area in less than 20 years? Oh, and Mexico City also is trying to offer domestic partnership rights. I'm so proud of these countries, but I miss the days when the U.S. led the way in expanding freedom.

Funny thing, on the Underground Railroad tour during our recent visit with Julie and Tommy, we were all put in the role of slaves escaping to freedom in Canada. We spent a lot of time hiding in the bushes listening to actors talk about their perceptions of slaves. Two sentiments we heard over and over were "they want to undo God's natural order" and "they get treated pretty well. They should be happy with what they have." John and I did a lot of eye-rolling, since this is what we hear today.

There is no such thing as partial liberty. Unlike enslaved people in our past, our lives are not currently at risk, though KBG (killed for being gay) happens across the globe even today. Still,our civil rights violations are more like those from the 1960s than the 1860s.

I read somewhere recently that it was the African-American struggle in America that has best defined and refined our country's understanding of freedom. I believe that. It seems strange to me that almost 150 years after slaves traveled to freedom in Canada, John and I are considering the same option.

Yelling Still Doesn't Work

2006-11-14T17:48:00.000-08:00

John and I got up at the crack last Saturday morning to head to Cleveland for Tommy's birthday weekend. We hoped to get on the road at 5:00 a.m., but we didn't finish packing the car until 5:30. We loaded Claire in last and she immediatlely wormed her way into the front passenger seat. She knows better and normally will just move to the back when we say something. But this time she flattened and glued herself to the upholstery. After failed attempts to move her by command, I finally started tugging on her leash from the open door of the back seat, which was a lot like trying to pull a boulder out of the frozen earth with a pair of tweezers. Turning up the volume to a yell, I shouted "Get in the back! Back! Back!" which merely filled the air with quick puffs of steam--steam and confused sighs from Claire, who seemed to be utterly befuddled by my inabilty to grasp the fact that she'd gotten to the seat first and therefore had rights of first refusal on other places in the car, which she was presently exercising.

Not having had enough coffee or sleep to better my judgement I slipped with mindless ease into roar mode. Before I knew it, I could hear the word "Claaaaairrrrre!!!" in deep thudding tones like dynamite blasts bouncing between the houses up and down our street. It seemed awfully early for that kind of racket. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was the source. John who was calmly watching all of this, opened up the passenger side door, pushed Claire from that direction and got her moving. I gave her a swat on the behind as she passed me. A few muttered cursewords later and we were on the road. I was embarrassed by my behavior before I even started the car, "Man, I feel like an ass." John just looked silently at me with his patented non-judgmental judgement stare, which by the way keeps me in a constant state of awe. I could work for years and never come close to mastering this look the way he has. He should teach courses on it.

I calmed down as we drove and apologized to Claire who licked my hand in forgiveness heaping coals of fire upon my head. Deep in her gracious eyes I could still see a glint of irritation, a remnant leftover from being unjustly booted to the back seat. As good natured as she is, I know she will pull this out to use later.

By the time we got to the Mt. Comfort Rd. exit around 6:00 a.m. we were ready for a stop at McDonalds for breakfast. The lights were on when we went through the drive through, but the joint was closed. We could see staff inside lazily milling about, which just increased our peevedness. John suggested I yell at the restaurant the way I had at Claire. So as we drove by the door I screamed out the window, "McDonaaaaalds!!! Open! Open!!! Nooooowww!!! Oooooppppennnn!!!!!" The people inside were frozen in horror and confusion. Turns out my yelling had the same effect on McDonalds that it did on Claire, but I felt infinitely more satisfied with the results at McDonalds.

Taboo Birthday Weekend

2006-11-10T07:09:00.000-08:00

John and I are off to visit Julie (Gunstream Girl) and Taboo in Cleveland this weekend. It’s Taboo’s birthday! Jennie (Trim and Fashionable) and J. will be there, too, so we are doubly excited. Julie said that she and Jennie are making a mad scientist cake for Tommy (he’s a science teacher). I hate that I won’t have a camera to take with me.

This will be the first time John and I have met Bob Barker, Julie and Taboo’s dog. Julie even invited us to bring Claire. It will be our first road trip with her. I’m not really nervous about it. She loves to ride in the car. She would drive if we let her. Claire definitely holds to the “move your meat, lose your seat” philosophy and hops into the driver’s seat as soon as it is vacant. I’d love to believe this is just because she wants to be as close to us and our scent as possible, but I’m pretty sure it is because she thinks she could handle the car better (in my case, that is probably true).

I’m very excited to see what Julie has done to their house. Last time I was there she told me about her wall painting plans and they sounded very exciting. I would describe Julie’s style as “world funk,” which is appropriate given that she works for Heifer, International.

Arizona First State to Vote Down Gay Marriage Ban

2006-11-08T04:06:00.000-08:00

And it's a red state! Good for the Southwest.

Predictable bigotry prevailed in Tennessee, Virginia, Idaho, and some other places where we wouldn't care to live anyway.

Dissappointments are in Wisconsin, who should have known better, and Haggard Land, Colorado. Colorado voted for a ban on gay marriage and against a proposition that would give families like ours at least some protection. So you can strike that state right off our list of places we'll move. Besides, John's brother Ben and his wife Lise are moving back to Indiana.

Here is Pam's play by play.

Santorum Bites It

2006-11-07T19:08:00.000-08:00

Watching Rick "gay marriage=man-on-dog relations" Santorum give his concession speech is an even more satisfying moment than I expected it to be.

"We stood up for families." Does he even realize how offensive that statement is to families whom he sought to disadvantage?

VOTE!

2006-11-07T03:59:00.000-08:00

Today may be discussed as just one more day in a blue or red America, but I don't see it that way. Election Day is when we are ALL allowed to be our most patriotic selves. Privately expressing our agreements and differences in a voting booth is an oddly unifying experience.

So grab your umbrella and go vote. If you live in Indiana, take your driver's license or some other photo ID. If you don't know where to vote, , The Star has a voters' guide.

Now a message from the paranoid person in me--watch for any voting impropriety. There are a lot folks with a lot too lose in the U. S. today. If your voting machine (especially if you have to use a touch screen) does not work properly, stick around and raise holy hell until you are satisfied that your vote is accurately recorded.

Worn and Haggard

2006-11-03T15:16:00.000-08:00

Who knew when I blogged about Ted Haggard and Jesus Camp a few weeks back that we'd be seeing him plastered all over newspapers for meth and gay prostitution allegations, at least some of which are turning out to be true. His quick resignation makes me wonder if others won't be proven in coming days.

I've said this before: though I think it can be unhealthy in the long-run, I don't have a personal issue with gay guys trying to live in straight marriages. Every couple needs to decide for themselves what is most important to them and what they can live with. Those decisions are none of my business. Honesty is important, however. And if I were Haggard's wife, who just found out that her husband has been hanging around with and scoring meth from a gay male prostitute (meth tends to blur judgement about safe sex) I'd be scared to death.

We see this same story over and over. It's almost a cliche at this point. Anti-gay pastor stumps to disadvantage gay families, and then gets caught in his own scandal. Haggard has been pushing mightily to oppose the Colorado amendment that would give couples like John and me some protection for their relationships, though not marriage rights.

As much as I try to puzzle through this, I still don't get it. Do the Haggard's of the world fight so hard against us because they think all gay folks are making the same dumb-ass, compulsive decisions they are, and therefore must be stopped? Do people like him and closeted conservatives like Foley think if they fight hard enough against equality for gay families no one will possibly suspect they are gay? I wish I knew.

Haggard is the leader of the National Association of Evangelicals. The pastor of a 14,000 member congregation in Colorado Springs, just down the road from his friend James Dobson and Focus on the Family, which is a huge Exodus ex-gay ministry supporter. Surely if Haggard believed in what Exodus was selling, he could have taken advantage of it. He had enough money to afford a gated home. He had (I supppose still has) every resource in his "community" available to him. And yet this is where this chapter in his life has ended. It's downright Biblical. Someday I hope there is a way for these folks to get to a better place that doesn't involve hurting so many people.

By the way, Haggard is from Delphi, Indiana, hometown of our friend Christine Perkins, who is married to Sneer's Jason. Aren't you all proud?

Halloween Redux

2006-11-03T06:53:00.000-08:00

Does it bother anyone besides me that as a design event, Halloween has no shelf life? I mean once it's over, it's over. No waiting until the next holiday before striking the set like you can during the days between Christmas and New Years (or between Christmas and St. Patrick's Day in my case). November 1st comes and suddenly all of those pumpkins with faces that were so cute only yesterday now seem like awkward guests who know they should leave the party but just can't seem to find the door.

Karen brought a pumpkin to work a couple of weeks ago, a decorative refugee that Marc had given her, leftover from a luncheon at church. At eight inches in diameter it has what I believe to be the golden circumference of sit-around vegetables. We looked it over. It was covered with hot-glued artificial fall-colored poppies and raspberries, neither of which can be found in nature this time of year. And it was topped with a tuft of dried pine needles that stuck straight up.

We ditched the foliage with the exception of the needles. This left the pumpkin looking like the mohawked head of a pre-adolescent boy. So we named him Justin and set him up on a nearby file cabinet that everyone passes. Eventually we made him paper eyes and a smile with Chicklets for teeth. I put a bag next to him along with a sign that read "Please, Feed Me." Justin was popular, especially with the ladies, and he acquired quite a bit of candy in a short amount of time, which he kindly (as kindly as can be expected of a 'tweener-aged pumpkin anyway) shared with Karen and me.

But then Halloween ended, and the next day Justin had that awkward "What am I doing here?" look. We stripped him of his human features. Now he is in a chrysalis state. At first we thought we'd turn him into a pumpkin turkey, a Thanksgiving Phoenix, with cut paper tail feathers, a few pheasant ones, too, and a beak. Then, inspired by the recent weigh-in on ham's popularity here at Growing Sense, we decided to make him into a pumpkin pig. Karen is off today looking for a pink marshmallow nose.

In the meantime, Justin's just sitting faceless on the cabinet, well almost faceless, he is sporting some big green googley eyes I had leftover from Halloween. They are supposedly candy, but they smell funny so I won't eat them. Candy typically has a very long shelf life, and it should never smell funny.

New to Me Blogs

2006-11-01T17:38:00.000-08:00

If you look to the right of your screen you'll see the blogs that I frequent. And towards the bottom of the list are three blogs that I've started reading regularly.

Meandering Mango belongs to my friend Karen, with whom I work, and in fact, without whom I would not be working, at least not on such a regular basis. Karen and I literally stare at each other all day. Her cube faces mine. It is so fun to work that close to a good friend. Karen is another Broadway person. She's hilarious, creative and tells a great story, so I was thrilled when she started her own blog.

No Exit belongs to my friend Jennie's friend David, whom I've never met. At least I don't think I've met him, unless he was at her last Lincoln Party. Anyway, for some reason I started popping over to his neck of the online woods and kept going back. Someone who lets whatever is rattling around inside pop out, he also is not afraid to let his values show. David also has the distinction of being the closest I've come to meeting someone who got an essay for the NPR radio series This I Believe.

Adam in Chiner is actually just the link name for my Batesville friend Adam's blog: Digressions from the Middle Kingdom (too long a name for my blog roll, which I prefer to keep neat). "Chiner" is the way Adam's mom, Mary, pronounces China, which is where Adam lives and works. Mary is from Virginia and we've been making fun of the way she says things for years, so I don't think she would be any more offended than usual that I used her pronunciation in my link. I think Adam was born around a campfire because he treasures a good story more than just about anybody I know. And since China may not keep its great firewall open all that long, you should take advantage of checking into Adam's blog while you can.

Shower Dog

2006-11-01T17:24:00.000-08:00

This morning as I was shaving, Claire curled up on the towel in front of the shower to watch me. Then when I was getting out of the shower, I accidently hit her with the door because she was lying there again. This is new behavior. She used to just lay outside the bathroom door and watch me get ready. I'm sort of surprised she goes anywhere near the shower of her own free will since that is where John gives Claire her baths--actually her showers, after which she goes bonkers and bounces around the house like Woody Woodpecker for thirty minutes. Maybe now that it's getting colder in the mornings, the bathroom is a little warmer place to be.

2006-10-27T04:12:00.000-07:00

Pam over at Pam's Houseblend had a nice summary of the ripples spawned by the NJ Supreme Court's decision. Did you know Bush is in favor of civil unions? Me neither.

My favorite part of the post is a quote from Angie Paccione (D-CO) who is running for Congress against that unholy mess Marilyn Musgrave (R-CO) who sponsored the Federal Marriage Amendment.

"I think that's the ideal environment for children to be raised," Musgrave said, of opposite-sex marriage.

The remark got a smattering of applause but Paccione's response was quick earning her wide clapping and several cheers.

"You want to protect marriage, you know what's a threat to marriage? Divorce is a threat to marriage," she told the crowd of about 1,000

"You know what else is a threat to marriage? Infidelity is a threat to marriage. Domestic violence is a threat to marriage. Losing your job is a threat to marriage. Marriage is not a threat to marriage. I support equality."

"Marriage is not a threat to marriage," kind of sums it up. And if I'm not mistaken, poverty is indeed the biggest threat to marriage. Maybe that's a war progressive and conservative Christians can fight together.

Pickin' Meat

2006-10-26T04:00:00.000-07:00

Tonight I'm baking a peppered ham for some neighbors who just had a new baby (his name is Ben and he's super cute). I love ham, and I always forget how great it smells when it's baking. I bet if my people had to choose between turkey and ham for Thanksgiving (we usually have both), a family vote would favor the pig. A turkey is generally more elegant. Few un-carved things sit so beautifully on a platter, but judging strictly on taste I really think ham is the way we'd go.

Arkansans, like most people in the south and a lot of people here in the midwest, have adored ham for ages (it is no coincidence that the University of Arkansas has a mythologized pig for a mascot). I don't care for the weird loaf-shaped slabs or the deli cuts (if I want flavorless ham, I'll just eat thin-sliced turkey. It’s healthier.). I like the kind of ham that you can fry up in the morning and make red-eye gravy with. Throw in a few biscuits, eggs, and coffee and I wouldn't have to eat again for the rest of the day.

So how about you? Turkey or ham? If on Thanksgiving Day you had to make such a sad choice, which would it be?

NJ Supreme Court: "You Don't Have to Call them Married, but You Have 180 Days to Give them the Same Rights"

2006-10-25T16:57:00.000-07:00

In a 4-3 decision today, the NJ Supreme Court ruled that based on the state's constitution gay couples who choose to so commit to one another should have access to marriage rights. The ruling also said that the State's Legislature has 180 days to decide what it wants to call such unions, giving them the option not to refer to them as "marriages."

So what does this mean for:

People like John and me? Not much if they live in Indiana, but if they live in NJ, a "?" license will allow committed couples full inheritance protections, hospital visitation rights, end of life responsibilities, spousal insurance coverage, everything that is automatically given to NJ's married couples except for the 1,138 federal rights and benefits straight married couples receive.

NJ Churches? The religious right is fond of saying that if gay marriage is allowed they will have to perform gay unions. They won't. Churches, conservative and progressive alike, legally deny people the right to get married in their places of worship all the time. We have mixed-faith (bi-faithful?) couples who come to Broadway to get married because their churches won't perform their unions. If a church, however, is receiving state funds or is acting on behalf of the state in some capacity, then they will probably have to rethink some of their positions or practices. This is what happened with a Catholic adoption organization who decided they would rather shut down than allow kids to be adopted by gay couples.

Democrats? A lot of people think this is bad news for the Democrats this November. In fact, while I'm thrilled with the ruling, the cynical part of me wonders if this was Karl Rove's "October surprise" since the timing (two weeks before the election) of the decision , which wasn't scheduled to come down until after the elections in November, will probably serve as a get out the vote call for the religious right. But then again, that is like Republicans blaming Democrats for the Mark Foley scandal.

Republicans? Maybe not as much as people think. A lot of good people, including many Republicans, want our families to be treated equally, they just believe the word "marriage" is a descriptor of straight relationships. The court gave the legislature a way out of the naming nuttiness. If Republicans want to make an issue of this ruling, they have to dance around the fact that they are saying they don't want 161,000 gay couples with kids treated equally, not to mention the hundreds of thousands of us who don't have kids. Update: Had the NJ court ruled to call gay unions marriages, people like us could go to NJ, get married and then petition to have our marriages recognized in our home states. The court left a way for those challenges to be denied, therefore Reupblicans can't use it as a "see, we told you so, now lets have that federal amendment please" issue."

The "M" word? My friend Jack, who is gay, wiser than me, and has been with his partner for years, once said, "David and I need the rights, but I don't necessarily want the word 'marriage' attached to our relationship." I get his point. Marriage has been used in the past to keep women in the role of property and typically has about a 50-50 chance of success these days. If NJ comes up with terminology that doesn't include "marriage" at least it won't carry that baggage with it. I don't need the word "marriage" attached to our relationship, but I must admit that I don't like the history that "separate but equal" has in our country either.

Broadway Church's Homecoming

2006-10-23T18:02:00.000-07:00

I am a member of Broadway Methodist Church in Indianapolis, Indiana--the most non-traditional, traditional church I have ever seen. I first visited Broadway back in 1998 shortly after I came out to the pastor of the church I had been attending. My news prompted the pastor, one of my closest friends, to tell me how much he loved me and that I would no longer be allowed to minister at that church. Having never been comfortable as a bystander at any church, much less one that would discount everything I'd ever done because of something I cannot change, I left.

It was a lonely time for me. I wasn't out to my family or any friends who shared my faith. Most of my friends who accepted me as I was couldn't imagine why I would want to go to church in the first place. Somehow I'd heard a rumor that Broadway welcomed all people. I sat in the back pews for several weeks trying not to talk to anyone, which was almost impossible because at every service the church would recite the following mission statement:

"As followers of Jesus Christ responding to God's love, our mission as the people of Broadway Church is to be multicultural, Christian community than in its ministries seeks, welcomes, and values all people,"

and then, like a stomped-on ant hill, the congregation would disperse and spend the next five minutes hugging everyone in sight, traveling front to back if need be in what a friend of John's once described as an "all skate."

I'd never been in a church that so gleefully welcomed (really welcomed) all people while exuding so much of the Spirit of Christ. It's kind of sad that I'd been conditioned to see these as separate phenomena. Eventually I committed to welcoming folks there as a member myself.

It was clear to me as I looked around this enormous, and ragged in some places, 1927 English Gothic building that Broadway Church had a history. I could sense it in the candlelit darkness of our hushed, holy, almost mystical Christmas Eve services. I would hear snippets of it from members who'd been there forever--how the church has frequently struggled, sometimes clumsily, to be on the forefront of what justice and mercy could mean in this world. How when the denomination had wanted the church to die, the congregation would not be killed. Turns out that Broadway is a living symbol of resurrection power.

I wanted some sort of connection to my church's past. I remembered the church Homecomings from when I was a kid. Typically these were picnics or potlucks. I wondered if something like this would get people back in a way that might help me put more pieces of the puzzle together. Turns out that two long-time Broadway faithfuls, Barb Taylor and Roger Sell (later crowned Broadway Homecoming Queen and King), had the same idea, though maybe for different reasons. They took the ball and ran with it in a way I never would have.

Before it was all over, a weekend was planned that would include turning the church's elegant parlor into a historic archives full of history from wall to wall, reunions of years of Sunday School classes, a dinner and service where people would drive from cross country for three days to reconnect with this place that had touched them in profound ways. Multiple generations returned. Getting ready for the event nearly knocked a few of us off before it even happend, especially floor-buffing and wall-painting miracle workers Randy and Jerry, but it was worth it. The church doesn't look ragged any longer.

During the dinner Saturday night, the Community Room was so jammed with people that tables were placed on one of the stages. That is where I wanted to be, a place where I could look out and see what the present sitting with the past looks like. As I sat at the table, surrounded by amazing friends--current members who are all so different and who still manage to find such joy and fun in one another--I was so grateful for what we'd been given by the people who'd been here before. They weren't perfect, but they left us with such a gift--this church that joins us--a legacy of love, mercy, curiosity, stubborness and creativity to build on. That legacy was recognized in the form of an award given for lifetime service to Margaret Pengilly, a woman whom I fear I will one day hug to death because to be near her is to be close to the heart of God.

Phil Amerson, one of the former pastors and one of our beloved Pastor Mike's mentors remarked that, "If ever there was a place for the "others" of the world, it is Broadway." I wrote that down in my program next to the signatures of all of the people at the tables around me (I had them sign it like a yearbook), shortly before one of the center pieces near us caught fire.

The next day I was with Amy, a photographer friend of mine I'd asked to come take pictures. I escorted her during the service to all of the really cool places from which to shoot and got a birds eye of view of everything. Services at Broadway on most days are pretty traditional and "high." On special occasions, there's lots of choir singing and processing. I love it. On really special days, someone marches down the center aisle with the huge Broadway family Bible over their heads. And Chris, our supreme organist, rocks the joint on our pipe organ. When all of worship is working together like that it takes my breath away. This was one of those days.

The moment that summed the weekend up for me and that makes me cry when I write about it was when relatively new members and our good friends Duane, Todd, and their kids Daniel and Mari lit the altar candles with the help of Mr. and Mrs. Chisler who have been there forever. I can't decide what it was about seeing this that touched me. Maybe it was the past and the future working together. Maybe it was that I see myself in Duane and Todd, and I know I will never hear what I heard from my last church at Broadway. Maybe it is that no matter how glad I was to have people come back, seeing the Chislers reminded me that there were a bunch of hearty, Godly folks who stuck it out and never left. I see us all in a new light now.

Sen. Barack Obama Considers Presidential Run in 2008

2006-10-22T15:16:00.000-07:00

That would be fine by me. I could TOTALLY be into that candidacy. From the Washington Post.

So interesting that this broke today. John and I were having a wonderful youth-group prepared lasagna lunch at church while discussing with friends possible candidates in 2008 and the relative dirth of presidential Democrats who have expressed interest. Someone mentioned Obama's name along with a wish that he'd throw his hat into the ring. Was it Scott's friend Terry, who was visiting from Detroit and who is convinced that all we do at Broadway is eat because there is a lunch everytime he comes to see us? I don't rightly remember, but whoever it was, thanks for asking.

Decorative Slump

2006-10-21T09:00:00.000-07:00

I can't manage to get the house decorated for fall. Typically I repot all of the garden containers out front with mums, buy pumpkins and gourds for the buffet, new candles, put out my vintage halloween decorations and the set of 8 alabaster skulls that were once at the bottom of church crucifixes (symbolizing Golgotha I assume). But this year all I've managed to do is put a wreath on the door.

I know part of the problem has been that I've started a new job and gotten a little sick at the same time. All I want to do when I get home is slug around. There also were several weddings and our church Homecoming this past weekend. But I can't really use that as an excuse, because I made an emergency stop with Barb , who was one of the big implementers of the Homecoming, at her house the other night to fish a wayward contact out of the corner of my eye so I could see to drive home. Once my eyesight was back to normal I noticed that her house was spotless and beautifully decorated! When did she find the time?

I did loan out for awhile some of my best decorations to a photographer I used to work for who needed some props. I got them back, but can't manage to find a place for them.

Oddly enough what I have had energy for is designing a new house. We love our current house, which we also designed, and we don't plan to move for awhile, but I still have this house plan rolling around in my head. I'll post it when it gets to a more finished state.

A Prayer for Two Dads: Update

2006-10-21T07:33:00.000-07:00

Several of you have asked what happened with our friends who were facing a court hearing that would determine whether or not their adopted daughter, who they have had since her birth in February, would be taken away from them. Here is the original story.

The hearing was suspended at the last minute. I was kind of waiting for resolution before reporting, but the situation is not yet resolved. I spoke with the guys a few weeks ago and they said they were still fighting to keep their daughter who is now nine months old. All three still beam high wattage smiles when I see them and they are very happy even as they wade through some scary and uncertain times. I can't imagine what effect living with this level of uncertainty must have on day to day life, but they are models of perseverance and grace. I asked one of the dads how he deals with the suddenly interested biological father. He said he prays for him.

Well guys, I know several Growering Sense readers who are praying for you, too. Hang in there.

Head to Jesus Camp

2006-10-16T17:28:00.000-07:00

Our church had quite the whing ding of a Homecoming this past weekend. It was a total blast, but I need to wait for some friends to send me photos before a blog entry can do it justice (not having a camera is killing me).

After the last reception on Sunday Dave said he was too tired to do anything but sit and stare at something, so we decided to catch a movie. John opted to be the responsible adult and stayed home to do laundry. We saw Jesus Camp, a documentary about kids from the midwest who attend an evangelical church camp in North Dakota called Kids on Fire where they learn to speak in tongues and lay hands in prayer on a cardboard cut-out of George Bush.

Even though it is a documentary, there are some very Waiting for Guffman-ish moments like when the likeable Pastor Becky, who runs Kids on Fire, waves a plastic sickle as she explains how toys make great teaching tools for kids. My favorite Pastor Becky moment though is when she searches for just the right blood-dripping font for the Power Point presentation to accompany one of her sermons to the kids: "I think I've got a bloody font in here somewhere. There it is. That's much better."

The documentary also follows Levi, a pre teen would-be preacher with a rat tail mullet. Naively sure of his knowledge of life (thanks to his mother who tells him science doesn't really prove anything), he's still sweet and articulate. Watching him make his way through the maze of pride that surrounds preachers in his faith community is both touching and full of melancholy. The scariest moments are those where Ted Haggard, head pastor at a 4,000 person strong megachurch in Colorado Springs, blathers on about the indomitable might of "evangelicals" as little Levi hangs on his every word. According to the film, Haggard speaks with G. W. Bush every Monday.

The crowd in the theater alternated between shocked giggles and horrified gasps. For all of the talk about Jesus in this movie, some of the major concerns he had while walking the earth (freeing people to live with love and imagination and dismantling hierarchical oppression imposed by religious leaders), seem pretty absent in the faith of these folks. In fact, the omnipresent language of war and what passes for prayer (mostly yelling at God to overturn a government they don't care for) seem much more in line with the militaristic, but ultimately misguided hopes that some of Christ's disciples had for his earthly kingdom. (It is probably a good idea to remind myself that Jesus still invited them to hang out with him.)

At first I thought this movie would be merely a whacky story of some uber-zealots in North Dakota, but in the end, Jesus Camp's greatest gift is the way it reveals the magnitude of the seething-as-it-smiles element of the religious right in the U.S and the innocents that get sucked into its vortex. Serious stuff it is. But you still have to love watching Pastor Becky's frustration at not being able to spray her hair as high and as spiky as she would like. Even a general in the army of God can have a bad hair day.

Lucille's Red Velvet Cake

2006-10-12T19:42:00.000-07:00

Karen recently asked for my Red Velvet Cake recipe. I should confess that as is the case with most anything worth eating that I make, the recipe isn't mine.

Lucille Greenfield was a woman who went to the church where I grew up, and this is her recipe. She was famous for this cake and for being most informed about Batesville goings on. She had a police scanner turned on in her house 24/7. When Wednesday night prayer meeting or Sunday church rolled around, Lucille was more than happy to shout out all that needed sharing and then some.

Sometimes Lucille took the trouble to submit her police reports in the form of sympathetic prayer requests. More often than not, however, her enthusiasm for local moral atrocities would eclipse any patience she had with spiritual formalities. In those instances she would resort to blurting out in joyful shock whatever newsworthy burden she happened to be carrying to anyone within earshot not affiliated with the story she had to tell. Sometimes in her excitement that last distinction was ignored. If something really big happened Lucille would forfeit the convenience of a gathered flock altogether, pick up the phone and just call everyone she knew, which thanks to the scanner was pretty much everybody in town.

Lucille moved up to the precinct in the sky some years back, but my sister still bakes a mean version of her Red Velvet Cake. I probably should buy her a scanner one of these days.

1 1/2 cup sugar
1 cup oil
2 eggs, well beaten
2 teaspoons cocoa
1 teaspoon vinegar
1/2 oz (1/2 bottle) red food coloring
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon flour (for dusting cake pans)
2 1/2 cup flour
1 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder

Icing:
1 box powdered sugar
8 oz. package cream cheese
1 tsp vanilla, scant

Grease and flour 2 9-inch cake pans. Mix sugar, oil, eggs, cocoa, vinegar, and food coloring. Add buttermilk and vanilla. Add dry ingredients. Pour into pans. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

Icing: I usually double the icing recipe so I don’t have to skimp on frosting and because I like to eat the leftovers on graham crackers.

Combine 1 box powdered sugar with 8 ounce package of cream cheese. Beat until smooth. Beat in vanilla. You can also add some chopped nuts if you like.

"Come out, come out where ever you are."

2006-10-11T06:16:00.000-07:00

Today is National Coming Out Day. I remember being a grad student at Vanderbilt and seeing signs on campus about NCOD and wondering, why do "they" need a day to come out? I was still trying to be straight at the time. Ironically, the fear and loathing I had for who I was answered my own question. At the time, the only "out" people I knew of were the more brave and radical folks. If people with whom I had more in common had been out, I probably would have been more comfortable with myself sooner and come out earlier.

That is why I am all the way out now. I wish I'd had role models with whom I could identify when I was younger. Hopefully I can be that now.

You know, National Coming Out Day isn't just for gay people--we need straight people to come out, too. What do I mean? Well, any time a straight person hides that they have a gay friend or family member when a bashing conversation starts or when a lie or myth about gay people is being spread, that straight person is also a victim of the closet. And sadly, there is never just one victim when someone is in hiding.

Pastor Mike says something when he breaks the bread for communion that seems like a coming out statement--I can't remember it exactly, which is sad since I've heard him say it a thousand times. Maybe if he's reading this he can give me the correct quote, but it goes something like--"Be what you see, Receive what you are." I think it has something to do with being the provision that God provides and receiving the provision that God makes you to be. For some reason, not sure why exactly, I see a connection to coming out.

Quote of the Day

2006-10-11T06:05:00.000-07:00

In a Washington Monthly column, Joe Scarborough, Republican and former congressman from Florida and host of MSNBC's Scarborough Country says he would prefer:

an assortment of Bourbon Street hookers running the Southern Baptist Convention to having this lot of Republicans controlling America’s checkbook for the next two years.

Hat tip to Pam's Houseblend and Michael Petrelis

Duane's Fall Food

2006-10-08T18:59:00.000-07:00

Duane sent me a recent Fall Food pic in response to an earlier post. I love food pictures. I'm glad Duane sent one because I lost our camera in San Francisco a few months back and haven't been able to post pictures since. John and I started checking out new cameras at Costco today.

Message from Duane:

I read your post on food, but couldn't post a pic...Fall just gets my appetite roaring! (I am convinced we still have the hibernation gene active in our modern, sedentary bodies.)

Daniel and Mari helped me make Daddy a surprise while he was mowing the lawn this afternoon.

I've had Duane's pies before. I'm sure Todd enjoyed his surprise. I would so love it if my "lunch" was a perfect lattice-crusted pie.

Getting The Facts Straight

2006-10-05T08:26:00.000-07:00

I shouldn't have to post this, but since John heard a conservative Washington Times correspondant say on NPR(!) that gay people are more likely to molest children (he was referring to the Foley scandal) I think it is a good time to bring up the facts that dispute this myth. John and I first heard the stats below when we were the only gay couple in a foster parenting class. While Foley has some serious problems, research suggests that they are not a function of his sexual orientation. Pedophilia, like rape, seems to be about something other than sex. See below, from the Rainbow Alliance site:

Here are some findings from the scientific peer-reviewed journal, "Pediatrics" published in July of 1994. The study was done by Dr. Carole Jenny of the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center. The subjects were 269 sexually abused children seen at Denver Children's Hospital over the course of one year.

*1 in 219 girls was molested by a lesbian * 1 out of 50 boys by a gay male.*About 8 in 10 girls were molested by a man who was or had been in a heterosexual relationship with the child's mother or another relative. *3 out of 4 boys were abused by males in heterosexual relationships with female relatives.

2% of the boys in the study were molested by gay males.

98% of the boys in the study were molested by heterosexuals. Of that number, 75% were molested by heterosexual males KNOWN TO THE VICTIMS in an incestuous scenario.

0.05% of the girls in the study were molested by a lesbian.

99.5% of the girls in the study were molested by heterosexuals. Of that number, 80% were molested by heterosexual males KNOWN TO THE VICTIMS in an incestuous scenario.

If you think that study is unique, I invite you to investigate some more references, all of which report parallel numbers.

Groth, A. Nicholas, and H. Jean Birnbaum, 1978 "Adult Sexual Orientation and Attraction to Underage Persons", Archives of Sexual Behavior, 7, 175.

"Suggests that homosexuality and homosexual pedophilia may be mutually exclusive and that the adult heterosexual male constitutes a greater risk to the underage child than does the adult homosexual male." [p 609]

Newton, David E., 1978 "Homosexual Behavior and Child Molestation: A Review of the Evidence", Adolescence, 13, 29.

"Existing studies provide no reason to believe that anything other than a random connection exists between homosexual behavior and child molestation. The typical offender is a heterosexual male." [p 610]

"Stigma, Prejudice, and violence against Lesbians and Gay Men" (pp. 60-80 in John Gonsiorek and James Weinrich (eds) "Homosexuality: Research Implications for Public Policy" Sage Publications, 1992). Herek says: "Since 1978, no credible new data have been published that contradict the conclusions" [that pedophilia is a crime committed almost exclusively by heterosexuals].

Fall Food

2006-10-04T06:10:00.000-07:00

I'm going to resist posting another entry on the media maelstrom surrounding retired Republican congressman Mark Foley even though I'm dying to use the blog title "Focus on the Foley." By the way, I make the "Republican" distinction here only because Fox news has been listing Foley as a Democrat, three times so far--now that's news you can trust. Thanks, but no thanks Fox, the RNC can keep that albatross.

Instead, here is an apple dish for fall that I made last night for John. I think it is a pretty common dish for this region. We both liked it, and it is an easy one pot supper. I like those because I can clean up the kitchen while they cook. You could even cut up most of the ingredients, maybe not the garlic and apples, before work in the a.m. Would love to have recipes for fall dishes that others like to make. I would be happy to post them here.

Polish Sausage, Apples, and Red Cabbage

2 tbs. oil
2 medium onions, thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves
1 medium red cabbage, shredded (remove the white core)
4 Granny Smith apples, cored, peeled and sliced
2 1/2 lb. Kielbasa Sausage
1 bay leaf
1 tsp dried thyme
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground mace
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 cup soup stock
1 tbs. wine vinegar

Heat oil in a 4 qt. kettle and saute onions and garlic for five minutes. Stir cabbage into the mixture and saute five more minutes. Peel, core, and slice the apples and toss into the pot. Stir. Place sausage onto vegetables. Add the bay leaf and sprinkle thyme, mace and black pepper on top of all. Pour in stock and vinegar. Cover pot and bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer on low heat for 30 to 40 minutes. Stir to mix spices about half way through cooking.

Yet One More Reason I'm Glad I No Longer Live in Texas

2006-10-01T18:58:00.000-07:00

I used to work for the museum where the teacher saw the "nude art." From the NY Times:

But Ms. McGee, 51, a popular art teacher with 28 years in the classroom, is out of a job after leading her fifth-grade classes last April through the Dallas Museum of Art. One of her students saw nude art in the museum, and after the child’s parent complained, the teacher was suspended.

Why would anyone want to teach in a state where these whack jobs have so much power? No offense to my beloved brother-in-law who actually teaches nearby, but not in the same town. Maybe things are different where he is.

The DMA doesn't really have controversial art on display. The objects mentioned in the article were not created for erotic purposes.

But mark my words, the fundy parents who got this teacher fired shouldn't be surprised when the kid they are raising to believe that all images of the human body are erotic becomes sexually neurotic.

The Vatican Has a New Dome

2006-09-30T19:00:00.000-07:00

And I thought the Catholic Church had cornered the market on pedophile cover ups. From PageOneQ:

National Republican Congressional Committee Chairman Tom Reynolds (N.Y.) issued a statement Saturday in which he said that he had informed Speaker Dennis Hastert (R-Ill.) of allegations of improper contacts between then-Rep. Mark Foley (R-Fla.) and at least one former male page, contradicting earlier statements from Hastert.

GOP sources said Reynolds told Hastert earlier in 2006, shortly after the February GOP leadership elections. Hastert's response to Reynolds' warning remains unclear.

Hastert's staff insisted Friday night that he was not told of the Foley allegations and are scrambling to respond to Reynolds' statement.

Congressman Mark Foley (R-FL), resigned yesterday after it was discovered that he'd been involved in sexual electronic exchanges with minors, in this case congressional pages on the Hill. Though he is a gay man, he was not a favorite of gay rights advocates. As a closeted gay Republican, Foley voted for the Defense of Marriage Act. Anything to stay in office, right?

I won't publish his e-mails to Hill pages (too graphic for this site). Here is ABC's video coverage. They mention some of the tamer but still incredibly creepy parts.

And here (from the St. Petersburg Times) is what Foley had to say about Clinton back in 1998.

"It's vile," said Rep. Mark Foley, R-West Palm Beach. "It's more sad than anything else, to see someone with such potential throw it all down the drain because of a sexual addiction."

UPDATE:Now it appears that it was known Foley had a thing for underage pages five years ago and no one did a thing to protect them.

Colorado is Starting to Look Pretty Good

2006-09-24T15:38:00.000-07:00

If/when John and I leave Indiana we still want to be near family and friends. Colorado has been on our radar screen for some time as a potential destination.

Here are some reasons:

1. My sister Christie is quietly determined to move there someday in the not so distant future. Living in Colorado has been a dream of hers for a long time and in my experience, quiet determination is all my sister needs to get most things done. I assume that Kevin, my brother-in-law, will have the good sense to go with her when the time comes.

2. John's brother Ben and his wife Lise also are looking at Colorado. They are athletic and politically progressive. Colorado's open-mindedness and lifestyle ops appeal to them, as they do to John and me, however unlike Ben, we won't be competing in any triathalons anytime soon. I did once dream of organizing an alternative to the Iron Man competition called the Tin Man. The Tin Man would include timed bike races to nearby donut shops, but that is as far as I've gotten with an event description.

It has been 18 years since my sister and I lived in the same town. John loves his brother as much as I love my sister. We think all of us living in the same state would be a blast.

Then there is this kind of shocking news from the The Baptist Press:

A proposed constitutional marriage amendment in Colorado is supported by 52 percent of registered voters, according to a Rocky Mountain News/CBS 4 poll of 500 voters Sept. 10-12. Forty-two percent of voters oppose the amendment, which would protect the natural definition of marriage by preventing state courts from legalizing "gay marriage." It is known as Referendum 43.

Meanwhile, Referendum I, which would grant same-sex couples many of the legal benefits of marriage, is supported by voters by a margin of 58-38 percent, according to the same poll.

Nearly one in five voters plan to vote for both initiatives, the Rocky Mountain News reported.

So what would this mean for a family like ours?

Well, once you steer around loaded terms like "*natural definition of marriage" you'll notice that many of the same benefits of marriage are likely to be awarded to same-sex couples who request them. The term marriage would not be applied and it is unclear to me which protections would still be denied.

It turns out that while many straight people in Colorado are squeamish at the thought of calling what John and I have a marriage, they don't really want to leave us hanging when times get tough either. By the way, some gay people (not us) also squirm at the use of the term "marriage" to describe their long-term commitments, but not for the same reasons as the Focus on the Family crowd. Some same-sex couples balk at the word because of its association with what they perceive as shallow, unbalanced, and sometimes opportunistic heterosexual commitments, about half of which don't last. Still, I suspect that even these gay couples would appreciate having the same chance to protect their unions.

So while Colorado is not likely to offer full equality any time soon, their solution is a sight better than we are likely to see here, and, of course, you also have the Rockies, which while not quite as wonderful as the Ozarks, would offer some really nice scenery. People probably think I'm kidding about my bias toward the Arkansas hills, but what the Ozarks lack in stature they make up for in magical character. Anyway, November will prove whether or not the West will be won.

*Marriage doesn't exist outside our species and is not a biologically determined state. Besides, if marriage was truly "natural" like say the law of gravity, protecting it would be unnecessary since it could not be changed-- sorry for getting off topic, but BP's use of the term "natural" here bugs me.

True Confessions

2006-09-21T05:19:00.001-07:00

Duane forwarded me a tip on former New Jersey governor James McGreevey's new book, The Confession. Duane knew I was obsessed with this story when it unfolded last year--popular governor, married to a woman, actually divorced one woman and then married another. Then threatened with what sounded like extortion by his former male lover, an Israeli national, McGreevey announced on TV that he was gay and would resign from his governership.

Matt Lauer's interview with McGreevey, which you can view at Pageoneq here is a shining example of the poor decisions that gay men married to straight women make-anonymous sex in parks, bathrooms, etc. Did you ever wonder who would be insane enough to have sex in parks? Well, there are the young straight couples, and prostitutes and their Johns, and then gay men who are so uncomfortable with their sexuality that their only recourse is to find people in the same boat.

McGreevey's story is a sad but common one. In fact, did you read about the recent New York health department study that found 10% of 'straight men' in NY are having sex with other men?!

From 365gay:

And of that 10 percent, almost 70 percent of them were married.

Say what? you ask. Read on:

Compared to men who identified themselves as gay, the "straight" men who had sex with other men were more likely to belong to a minority racial or ethnic group, be foreign-born, have a lower educational level, and live outside Manhattan...Most worrisome the group was less likely to have been tested for HIV infection during the previous year and less likely to have used a condom during the last sexual encounter than men who identified themselves as gay.

Single women should realize that not all men who are attracted to men think of themeselves as gay. Often this is because in their head 'gay' means dressing or acting a certain way that doesn't fit how they see themselves. When I came out I remember telling an older gay friend of mine, "I don't know how to be gay." He told me, "Troy, being gay doesn't mean acting a certain way. It means being yourself." This is not always the message the media sends.

In any case, it is not enough to ask a potential spouse if they are straight or not. Maybe ask him to tell you about the people he has had physical relationships with, or even if he has had sex with men. The shame that certain social environments, family structures, religious beliefs place on same-sex attracted people is powerful. Often people living within these systems will stay in denial unless pried out. McGreevey's former wife says she had no idea her husband was gay. She's lucky to be alive.

When society stops shaming, demeaning, and devaluing people for being gay, when the families of gay people decide to support rather than ostricize their gay children for something they cannot change and did not choose, this kind of risky behavior is likely to diminish.

I Don't Hit Animals or Humans

2006-09-18T18:57:00.000-07:00

I'm still mulling over the sandwich incident. There was a time, before I’d taken in over 1300 hours of animal shows on The Learning Channel, that I thought spanking seemed like a perfectly reasonable option for dogs. I know; I’m the devil. These days, however, animal behaviorists are pretty certain corporal correction hurts dogs more than it helps them. By the way, if you are someone who still disciplines your dog with physical punishment, I'll let you in on a little secret: people probably assume you also run Pit Bull fights out of your garage on weekends to support a nasty meth habit-- just so you know.

So I don’t hit animals (or humans in case you’re wondering). I feel the need to be clear on this point since somewhere along the line I have acquired a reputation for having a violent temper. A temper? Guilty. Violent, only if you happen to tap into the 39 year-old reservoir of angry gay man, which, by the way, is just down the street from somewhat disillusioned evangelical and across the road from mildly irritable selfish second sibling.

I clarify my temperamant because once I relayed news of an earlier food snatching to my friend Dave, who has, in my view, an unhealthy need to be the sole object of Claire’s affection to the point that he lays down with her on our furry floor to spoon, repeating over and over to me as I watch that Claire has no love for anyone greater than her adoration of him. Isn’t this just what the religious right fears will happen if you grant the gays marriage rights?

My memory's a little fuzzy, but he wasn’t spooning with Claire during my retelling of her earlier smash and grab. He was making a fall wreath. Upon word of her transgression, Dave gingerly placed the hot glue gun he’d been using to attach red and orange berries to the wreath on the table, turned to me and with a drawn back accusatory glare that would have made Norma Desmond proud, shrieked, “You didn’t hit her, did you?” I told him that the nail-studded driver I normally use to discipline Claire when she makes a “poor choice” was at the pro shop.

I don't hit animals or humans, but I'm starting to realize that even when I'm tempted to club something the gentlest response is likely to be the correct one. Claire's walks are an example. They are typically peaceful, occassionally jaunty affairs. She ignores most dogs. I can tell when she sees a cat that she imagines chasing it down, but these are fleeting fantasies quickly dismissed. If a squirrel, however, so much as picks its nose in a tree three blocks away every muscle in Claire's body starts to twitch and twinge. Sometimes she'll flip her body and walk on her two hind legs while trying to pry the leash from around her nose. Since autumn is turning our streets into a squirrely Klondike full of fallen acorns her behavior has gotten increasingly problematic. I lie to alarmed passersby and tell them she suffers from Turrets.

I tried ignoring her behavior, pulling her through the episode like the good pack leader, saying with each tug of her leash, "we don't have time for this. We have to migrate to food, which happens to be at the house we just left 30 minutes ago." I tried holding her face in my hand to break the squirrel spell. No luck.

Finally, this morning I asked myself, "What if she can't help this? I know she's supposed to be ready to do whatever we as her pack leaders ask at any time, but what would happen if I just followed her lead on the squirrel thing?" So when we came upon our first squirrel who was sitting on a tree limb 15 feet above us I gave Claire the slack in her leash. She raced to the base of the tree, sat down, stared at the squirrel for 5 seconds and then stood back up to move on with her walk.

I felt ridiculous. Three weeks of incessant doggie mind games trying to figure out how to get her to move through the squirrel fits, and all she needed was to look at one for a few seconds. I wonder how many other challenges in my life have such simple solutions.

The Dog Shouter

2006-09-15T06:09:00.000-07:00

John went to Bible study, so I was on my own for supper tonight. I fixed a couple of peanut butter sandwiches. This shouldn’t impress you. But in the time it took for me to walk from the counter where they lay to the cabinet that holds our plates Claire had snagged one of the sandwiches and eaten half of it. Two, three seconds tops from grab to drop. Now that’s impressive. Even more impressive is the nerve she showed when I turned to catch her red-handed. She looked me in the eye, dropped the mauled sandwich and pranced out into the living room as if her nonchalance might convince me that I hadn’t seen her eat half my dinner. All of this happened only minutes after she’d eaten an entire bowl of her own food.

Claire and I have discussed before that all of her paws should be on the floor most of the time. Acceptable exceptions are when her belly needs rubbing or when she’s located some especially wretched mess to coat herself in during our absence. Additionally, I’ve mentioned to Claire, frequently in fact, using many words that begin and end with hard consonants like “don’t” and “dammit,” that her feet accomplish nothing of value when propped up on cabinets. Now, as slow waves of deep disappointment erupt from my bowels, hanging in the air like thunderclouds, Claire stares past me, ears twitching back and forth with a level of disinterest equal to that of an eye-rolling teenager. It is a response I’ve seen from her before.

No matter how earnestly I explain all the reasons why the same tongue she uses to lick her ass should not be licking my food, nothing in my nonsensical blahbity-blah-blahs convinces her that a clean sweep of the counter when given the chance isn’t a good idea. In fact, quite the opposite has proven true for her in the past. I must confess that, like Claire, I too find doggie dialogue ridiculous. I know she doesn’t understand a word I say. She knows she doesn’t understand a word I say. I can’t be the only one wondering what the point of all the noise is. So, what to do?

Ann Richards: A REAL Texas Politican Gets Her Wings

2006-09-14T15:02:00.000-07:00

I lived in Texas back in the early 1990s when Ann was governor. She was honest, clever, brave, and worked hard to do the right thing. All traits lacking in G. W. Bush, the man who replaced her as governor. He made it very easy to leave Texas, but then he became president, and well, its been difficult to avoid his ravaging lack of skills ever since.

Ann made Texas government for everyone, opening it up to women and people of color:

From the Indianapolis Star:

She grabbed the national spotlight with her keynote address at the 1988 Democratic National Convention when she was the Texas state treasurer. Richards won cheers from delegates when she reminded them that Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, "only backwards and in high heels."

Richards sealed her partisan reputation with a blast at George H. Bush, a fellow Texan who was vice president at the time: "Poor George, he can't help it. He was born with a silver foot in his mouth."

Sins of the father I guess. I miss humor in politics. It is a completely underutilized tool in the Democratic party. Oh for a world where Democrats could come out shootin' with fact-based smacks and still win!

Number of Families with Children Headed by Same-sex Couples

2006-09-13T16:56:00.000-07:00

From Reuters:

There were 161,000 families with children headed by same-sex couples in the U.S. as of 2000, the first year this statistic was recorded.

"Let Us Remember 9-11-01"

2006-09-10T06:31:00.000-07:00

That was the quote on a sign in front of St. Michaels and All Angels church, which John and I walked past last night during a walk with his mom. The sign irked me, but I'm not sure why.

Is it because the phrase "let us," is typically reserved as an invitation to prayer in the English language. So let us pray what about 9-11? For the still grieving familes? Absolutely, but then Let Us Remember 4-19-95, the date of the Oklahoma City bombing, as well as 12-7-41. Did those immense tragedies translate to plastic letters on church signs, those pithy distillations of "Christian" values, five years later? And are we really in danger of forgetting 9-11? Memories of that day are as clear for me as those from last week.

The cynical part of me (my friend Marc said he wants to create bumper stickers that say "cynical is the new happy"), suspects its author means, "Let Us Pray that God Smokes 'Em Out and Kills Every Iraqi Insurgent." This prayer will be said in unconditional love, of course, and despite the fact that Iraq had nothing to do with 9-11. Or perhaps for the more informed its "Let Us Pray that God Helps the U.S. Capture Osama Bin Laden and His Kind" or "Let Us Pray that Whoever Dares to Commit Heinous Crimes on American Soil Again Be Brought to Justice."

I'm fine with those last two, and that one about bin Laden still needs answering, for sure and should be expanded to include the legion of Osama wannabes coming up behind him. Too bad the majority of our troops and an increasing amount of our military resources are tied up in Iraq in ways that detract from those efforts.

Now ABC/Disney wants to air what Pam Spaulding calls the "factually inaccurate, Bush-stroking terror porn, Path to 9/11." ABC admitted that it has dramatized some of the events in order to make them more dramatic. Yes, let's do remember 9-11, but let's at least try to remember it accurately, because one thing I do remember is that "factual errors" in the days after 9-11 led us straight into Iraq and a quagmire that is quickly bleeding America dry.

But maybe I'm wrong about the sign makers motives. Could it be that this is what the author of the sign at St. Michael's had in mind?

"Lord, we are still hurting from all of the things that happened on 9-11. Death came to our doorstep and claimed scores of us at once in a way that we could not imagine before. Calling home in one violent day a chunk of America--people of all races, religions, political leanings, sexual identities, rich and poor--a small world. We can hardly believe it happened even today.

Help us to remember that the United States--still beautiful, unique, and strong--is now officially as vulnerable as any other place on this planet. Please let our more clearly articulated status as a world citizen fill us with humility, not fear; compassion, not suspicion; wisdom, not revenge.

Give us the grace to make choices that reflect the highest of our values, not knee-jerk reactions and ignorance. Let us know you as the balm of Gilead, patching us up, strengthening us, helping us to live on in calling and in love. Amen."

Even if it wasn't the sign maker's intent, this is my prayer, and I guess I have St. Michaels church to thank for encouraging me to get on my knees.

Utilikilts Deconstructed

2006-09-07T06:37:00.000-07:00

As I explored the boring side of men's fashion over the last few days I ran across Utilikilts, their homepage is here. The photos below are from their site.

I gotta tell you, they work for me. I don't necessarily mean for me to wear, but at least for me to admire. Why do they work? For the same reason they worked for Egyptian pharoahs, warriors in the Congo, and, though I'm no big fan of his, Russell Crowe in Gladiator.

Stylistically, I think they work the way that a guy wearing a towel or shorts with a long-sleeved shirt wrapped around his waist do. Utilikilts typically produce an inverted 'V' from the waist down that mirrors the 'V' formed from a guy's shoulders to his waist.

One should give the same attention to what Utilikilt to wear as one would any lower-body covering. For instance, though I like the fit of the green one in the first photo, the color doesn't appeal to me. I'd like to see him in a brown or khaki one. And if you look at the little guy behind him, you see how wrong things can go. The pattern, probably his family plaid, in that cut (too high above the knee) makes it look like a man's torso has been placed on the legs of a Catholic school girl. The plaid one is not a Utilikilt I don't think.

The desert camo look in the second photograph is kind of interesting. As with the utilikilted man above, a wide belt is a must. I hope these guys are twins. Otherwise, there's really no excuse for the matching boots (and socks).

Evidently, Utilikilts are here to stay for awhile. They were born in Seattle about six years ago. They are supposed to be very comfortable and practical. Cool (grunge scene standard issue) and geeky (popular at Renaissance fairs) at the same time, I enjoy looking at them in the right setting. What do you think?

Growing Sense Enters the Terrible Twos: Bad Seed Born

2006-09-01T12:15:00.000-07:00

Can't believe its been two years already. I thought I'd share some of the random thoughts that have run through my head about this blog since its birth.

_________________

You're too angry. People don't want angry. Be funny. It's a blog, not Scarborough Country.

It's my blog. I'll be angry if I want. Writing about rage is more interesting than tapping the bumper of that Hummer that just cut me off.

Is it though? The missing paint on the Grand Am screams 'Nothing to lose.' And the look of terror in that soccer mom's eyes has to be worth something.

God is not the author of fear.

If it's good enough for your president, it's good enough for you.

___________________

Jenny is so nice on her blog. And funny. And she has all of those cakes. I should have more cakes on my blog. I love cake. Even when I eat a LOT of cake, like maybe half of a big one, I don't feel guilty. That was one of the best things about being single, wasn't it? Someone would give me a cake and I'd take half of it home and have it all to myself. Cake for breakfast, cake for lunch, then for dessert. Cake, cake, cake. Feel bad? Nope, no shame about food. Wasn't that one of the lessons I learned in the 90s? That and how to buy clothes for the "husky" guy. I can't breathe or walk too well when I eat half a cake, but I can sit down and eat more cake.

___________________

'Highheels'? Who is that? And why is she ripping into me because I don't know the difference between body building and 'figure competing.' She's never even commented here before. Figure competing--I bet she just made that up. What is it, tiny, bulked up women posing in spaghetti straps and then hoofin' it to Smoothie King? I should tell her to come back when the 'roid rage passes. Hmm...I wonder if she could track me down. I could probably take her. She said she was only like 5' something. If she does come here, she'll be pulling a stiletto out of her behind. "'Figure' this, Highheels! You don' know me." John might have to hold her. Better check the batteries in the alarm system."

____________________

No one's commenting on that post.

So? I don't write for comments. I write for myself.

Sure ya do.

It's true! The minute you live for comments you start editing yourself too much to be interesting.

Uh-huh.

Oh Thank God, someone commented.

Dog Lover Smackdown: Cesar vs. Some Guy I Don't Know

2006-08-31T16:26:00.000-07:00

My friend Duane, who knows of our household's current infatuation with Cesar Millan, pointed me to an op-ed piece in the New York Times by Mark Derr titled "Pack of Lies," in which Derr claims Millan’s methods are setting dog training back 40 years. Who am I to argue? I’m no dog trainer. But if we weren’t shocked 40 years ago at the human tendency to anthropomorphize dogs to the point of insanity, then a trip down memory lane could actually be helpful. I went to a doggie bakery yesterday, so you can't tell me we aren't just a canine strip club away from Judgement Day.

“His [Milan's] mantra is “exercise, discipline, affection,” where discipline means “rules, boundaries, limitations.” Rewards are absent and praise scarce, presumably because they will upset the state of calm submission Mr. Millan wants in his dogs. Corrections abound as animals are forced to submit or face their fear, even if doing so panics them.”

God forbid any being in 21st century America be subjected to “rules, boundaries, and limitations.” From what I can tell, Millan suggests praising dogs when they are in a calm state rather than when they are hyped up and scatterbrained in order to reinforce behavior that is enjoyable to be around, making the dog a more likely target of affection in the future. If Derr wants to hug and kiss his dog while she terrorizes passersby he may, but he penalizes the nearby stranger. Doing so reminds me of parents who “reinforce” their kids’ loud and obnoxious attention getting circus acts in restaurants by telling their children over and over to "stop it" without consequences while ignoring them when their behavior is comendable. Whatever, I’m not a parent either.

Rewards are not exactly absent from Millan’s methods. He merely suggests that dogs probably find the time they spend with you and your obvious delight in them more rewarding than we might expect, and that perhaps food need not always be handed out for things dogs should be doing automatically as a part of the family unit. Not to go back to thinking of dogs as humans again, but doesn’t all of this sound sort of like a parenting philosophy debate?

Regarding cranky dogs:

More important, aggression often has underlying medical causes that might not be readily apparent — hip dysplasia or some other hidden physical ailment that causes the dog to bite out of pain; hereditary forms of sudden rage that require a medical history and genealogy to diagnose; inadequate blood flow to the brain or a congenital brain malformation that produces aggression and can only be uncovered through a medical examination. Veterinary behaviorists, having found that many aggressive dogs suffer from low levels of serotonin, have had success in treating such dogs with fluoxetine (the drug better known as Prozac).

Being more in the Brooke Shields rather than the Tom Cruise camp, I’m fine with dogs taking Prozac. Derr believes that Millan advocates aggression toward aggressive dogs by occasionally flipping an out of control dog on to its back, something that happens to out of line dogs in the wild. But in fact, Millan suggests that if your dog is aggressive you should consult a professional, period. And he says never to hit or even yell at a dog. Hitting is abusive. Yelling just confuses your dog or worse, makes him think you’re ecstatic about his painstaking efforts to shred your early American hand-hooked rug, as demonstrated by Claire’s wagging tail when I've mistakenly roared at her in the past.

Reading Derr’s article I almost sense irritation that an "uncredentialed" doggie Dr. Phil is getting more attention than he should. Degrees are important I suppose. The article mentions none of Derr’s qualifications, however, so it is hard to know why he might be more trustworthy than Millan. Derr didn’t really include any information about how whatever school of thought he subscribes to counters Millan’s ideas either, so it is difficult to argue with his points. Derr does make the excellent point that each dog has specific needs, a fact that someone might potentially ignore if one relied only on Millan’s methods. Though when you see a chihuahua chilling with a recently deadly Rotweiler at Cesar's palace, it's hard for me to believe each dog's needs are not being met.

I also got the sense that Millan's actions look “mean” to behaviorist who focus on not hurting a dog’s feelings, not a goal of mine I can assure you. But Millan’s arguing for spending more actively engaged time with your dog, communicating what is expected of them in ways they understand, and providing stabilizing affection seems like common sense to me. I could be missing something, but the fact remains that Derr hasn’t managed to make a 45-minute walk with our dog more fun for her and us. Cesar has.

A more important difference between Derr and Millan, is that Derr seems to be about dogs. As John puts it, “The Dog Whisperer isn’t about dogs. It’s about humans.” Millan’s work forces people to examine what role their own issues are playing in their dog’s problems—New agey? Touchy feely? Maybe, but as far as I’m concerned, anything that causes humans to reflect on and own up to the effect their own actions have on others seems likely to improve the world for both dogs and humans.

Menswear Muddle

2006-08-31T07:01:00.000-07:00

For the last three years I have been mostly bored by affordable mens fashion. I would say that part of the problem is that I don't shop in New York, but three years ago I was able to walk into an Indianapolis mall and find at least one pair of pants that didn't put me to sleep. I only bring this up because I just got J. Crew's fall catalogue and it is a complete drag--the love child of Gap and Lands End. Not that I have anything against either of those stores, but J. Crew used to be a little more progressive.

I got online to see if there was any hope for creative clothing on the horizon, especially for big guys like me. I'm happy to report that there is some light at the end of the tunnel if you are not into European styling, which tends to be slimmer cut. I like European clothes. Most just don't fit my bulky frame well.

Looks like Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren are Michael Kors are all bringing back some wider shouldered options. This is good for me, and I love Kors' big scarves. Typically wider cut shoulders are paired with slimmer cut pants, a look that I like and that also works for me (I have skinny legs). More good news is that drapier slacks are coming back in, at least for Marc Jacobs--think Cary Grant in the 30s. Paired with the right fitted sweaters the combo makes for a nice profile.

And believe it or not, its okay to wear pleated as well as flat front pants again. Cuffs are back. And don't throw away those cords.

Claire Update

2006-08-30T17:08:00.000-07:00

Some of you have asked how Claire is. The short answer is that she's fine as frog hair. And thanks for asking.

A more detailed answer:

House training--She hasn't had one accident in the house. An added bonus is that she refuses to poop in our yard. Don't worry, I pick up the cable she lays in other places. Our neighbor Mindy has a fenced in yard where she lets Claire play sometimes when Claire wants to give the business to a rag ball her friend Sally gave her. I think Mindy is growing Exlax in her lawn. I automatically take "pick up bags" when we go to Mindy's because the first thing Claire does there is poop. She will pee in our yard though, and she now only goes in the five square feet of grass I don't care about (near the compost pile).

Walks--Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer (cue angel chorus) says mastering the walk is the most important thing we can do for Claire. Long walks are sort of a dog's job. It is the best op for her to learn we are the pack leaders (and not her). Evidently, for dogs, walking=migrating to food, kind of a dog's reason for living (I was dissappointed to learn I wasn't reason enough). SO, we walk--45 minutes, once in the a.m. and once when we get home. She's pretty good at walking next to us, not in front of us (that took some doing). When she gets home, she gets food. Then we can play and relax. Migrate, eat, celebrate, then rest. Its a forumla, but it works.

Evidently dogs start getting the crazies if walks aren't long enough. We noticed Claire was kind of horsey on her walks. Then we read from the Book of Cesar that Claire needs to sit in a calm submissive state by the door before we go out and we need to go out before her. Same coming back in. The pack leader always goes first. A small thing, but boy did it make a difference. That and channeling our inner Oprah--something about acting with calm assertive energy makes a difference. We are working on saying less, and asserting energy more.

Health: No more cough. Eye infection she got at the Humane Society is cleared up. A few fleas.

Things we're working on:

Not jumping on visitors. She's getting better. The worst she does now is stand up in front of people. Some people think it's cute, but jumping on people (like pulling on the leash) is actually a sign of dominance so we don't allow it.

Hand signals. She's getting pretty good at sitting and staying with just hand signals.

Cats are not for chasing. If she ever hopes to visit her Grandma in Arkansas, she better learn this one.

No begging at the table. She's pretty good for us, but we've noticed that when company comes for dinner she puts on a show.

Coming when called. Works in the house, but outside she is easily distracted by squirrels, leaves, and soft grass.

Things we love about her:

She really is a sweetie. She is quiet and respectful, but she has a good sense of herself. I had her in a doggy bakery the other day. (I can't believe I just wrote that. Feel free to laugh and/or sneer. There was a time when I would have.) When surrounded by a full grown St. Bernard, a Doberman, and a very large Pit Bull, she just wandered into the group like she was one of the gang, sniffing butts with the best of 'em.

She doesn't wake us up in the morning. She gets up when we do.

Sometimes she walks up the stairs backwards when she gets ahead of us but still wants to make sure we are coming up.

She loves fruits and vegetables. Watermelon and plum tomatoes are her favorite treat for doing tricks. She's also a big fan of ice cubes.

Sorry I don't have more pictures (I can't find our camera.). She got her photo taken at a photographer's studio recently. I'm going to see if the artist will let me put it on the internet.

Talladega Nights and Stereotypes

2006-08-26T17:12:00.000-07:00

My sister recently moved with her husband to Alabama. I briefly worried for her as I watched Will Ferrell in Talladega Nights—The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (TN). How will she find her niche in such a place? Of course the movie provides no real data for answering the question, since she moved to Birmingham, not Talladega. And the Southern folks that populate the film are drawn as comic stereotypes, not authentic characters.

The question floated out of my head by the time the Bobby family is shown gathered around gallons of Powerade and mountains of trademarked food while debating the proper invocation of Jesus during grace. Ricky calls upon the 8 ½ lb. Christmas Jesus in gold fleece diapers. For the Bobbys, God, like a heavenly Pizza Hut, addresses our culture’s obsession with a variety of choices by providing bearded Jesus, ninja Jesus and even well muscled acrobat Jesus. The stereotype of consumer culture was hilarious.

I questioned why I thought that scene was so funny and wondered if it had something to do with a clever use of stereotypes, a subject our pastor Mike has been talking about. Stereotypes portray a diverse group of people as having only a small number of recurring, typically extreme characteristics. Comic stereotypes do this with humor that is either good-natured or biting, depending on your point of view.

Of the people stereotyped in TN; including the aforementioned self-obsessed consumer Christians, NASCAR fans, gay men, and French people; only small groups of Christians picketing the movie are visibly offended. I was surprised to hear about them. It seems they believe the movie makes fun of Christ and his followers. I didn't feel that way, mind you. Personally, I thought the only people who should be offended were those who treat God like a shopping mall.

Then it dawned on me, a certain segment of our population doesn’t understand that stereotypes aren’t real. I know that relatively few gay guys try to kiss guys they know are straight, pat their partners on the behind in public or own gay horses; therefore the movie’s stereotype of gay guys was funny to me.

But if you don’t know that stereotypes are false, you likely use them as a basis for your perception of at least one group of people. Or if you are the one being stereotyped in a comic setting, you become incredibly offended because you believe this is what people actually think of you. If the latter rings true, you should probably check to see if you aren’t also guilty of the former.

As 21st century comedy emerges everyone trades on the ludicrous traits of the most “other” of “others”. It used to bother me, but now I think I’m starting to understand that as long as the setting is comedic and everyone is free to receive and deliver the brunt equally, it’s okay. If the context is political or news oriented, stereotypes take on a wholly different tone. Perhaps the folks who are offended by TN see everything through those lenses these days, even goofball comedies that while not technically perfect provide more laughs than one might expect.

Evil Women

2006-08-23T05:57:00.000-07:00

Okay, I read this over at Pam's Houseblend yesterday, and for some reason it is still bugging me today so I decided to blog about it. I think it bothers me so much because something similar happened to a woman named Twyla in the Southern Baptist Church where I grew up. She was a beloved and powerful children's teacher and a great counselor. Some woman, who is my age, who didn't even grow up there, decided Twyla wasn't conservative enough for her and got this woman who'd been teaching there for about 30 years "fired." The same disrespect for the wisdom of experience shows itself when young pastor Timothy LaBouf of First Baptist Church, Watertown pulls this stunt.

"A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became sinner".
-- scripture quoted in a letter to 81-year-old Mary Lambert, who was booted from adult Sunday school position because she's a woman.

The Rev. Timothy LaBouf, who also serves on the Watertown City Council, issued a statement saying his stance against women teaching men in Sunday school would not affect his decisions as a city leader in Watertown, where all five members of the council are men but the city manager who runs the city's day-to-day operations is a woman.

"I believe that a woman can perform any job and fulfill any responsibility that she desires to" outside of the church, LaBouf wrote Saturday.

Sure you do, Tim.

Mayor Jeffrey Graham, however, was bothered by the reasons given for Lambert's dismissal. "If what's said in that letter reflects the councilman's views, those are disturbing remarks in this day and age," Graham said. "Maybe they wouldn't have been disturbing 500 years ago, but they are now."

You said it Mayor.

San Francisco Treats

2006-08-21T06:14:00.000-07:00

San Francisco Treats
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Broadway church is exploring the idea of radical hospitality. As part of that process they sent a group of us from the congregation to San Francisco to spend some time with folks at Glide Memorial Church. Here we are on one of the Twin Peaks (from l to r: Joe, Barb, Mike, Mark, Me, and Ellie).

This church was amazing. Back when crack started ravaging communities, and there seemed to be no hope for helping addicts recover, this church said, "we'll find a way." And they did. Many of the people on staff were recovered addicts and former homeless people. Social workers also made up a big part of the staff, which makes a lot of sense to me.

Glide starts from a place of unconditional love. I know that sounds trite, but they mean it. No strings of any kind are attached. During the church service, one of the pastors said, "we don't care what you just did, who you are, or even whether or not you share our faith. If God made you, we want you." Strange words to some, but we later met a woman who described herself as an atheist who moved from five hours away to San Francisco just to be a part of Glide. And she is involved in that church's ministries and prayer groups in ways that a lot of Christians aren't in their churches!

We were all amazed at how honest and grateful everyone was. Most of the people we met struggled with some kind of addiction. The church's motto is "we're all in recovery." No one seemed to have anything to lose or fear.

Sunday morning we attended the late service. Before service started we were looking for breakfast near the church which is downtown. As we walked by the church the early service was happening, and that old church was rocking (their worship service is a gospel music wonder). A guy standing in front of the church gave us a big friendly holler from across the street, "Y'all come to church!" I loved that. It reminded me of Jesus's parable of the guy giving a party who goes out into the streets to invite people when his rich friends wouldn't come. We hollered back that we would be at the later service.

I'm still processing all that I learned there. Our job now is to invite people from our church to talk with us about what we saw and to think about what radical hospitality might mean for us here in Indy.

Opening Day at the Indiana State Fair 2006

2006-08-18T05:49:00.000-07:00

First of all, I can't believe it has been 11 days since my last post. Now y'all know I usually do better, but a lot has been going on lately, which I'll tell you about in another post. But first I gots to go back and relive opening night at the Indiana State Fair.

If you've been reading since last year, you know our friend Dave LOVES the state fair. The only person who loves it as much as he does is our friend Kent. He and Dave have not missed opening day at the fair in 10 years. I've known for sometime that there was ritual and protocol involved in their opening day trip, but since I'd never been invited I could only imagine it. I'm here to tell you that this year I made the A-list and got an invitation. Writing about it may kick me off of it, but it was too fun not to share.

Here's how it went down:

6:00--Met Kent, Dave and Ken at the Dairy Bar. I got there before Ken did. Kent was giving him directions on the phone when I arrived. After hanging up, Kent announced that Ken was "on property," which is fair lingo for being on the fair grounds.

6:15--I had clothes issues. I'd come straight from work and was still wearing my khakis and light salmon pink, orange, and cream striped shirt. Casual clothes are code, but I thought I'd be home in time to change. To make up for it I bought a sno-cone the color of the pink stripe in my shirt (flavor: Pink Lemonade).

6:20--Ken finds us. He won't be staying the entire night which includes an Indiana high school bands marching contest, but he will join us for the tour of food. All fair food is not alike I learned. You can get corn in several places, for example, but the only place you SHOULD get it is at the Corn Growers' Association booth. Same with the Cattlemen's Association for beef. Dave is most insistent on this point, which I find funny since the only thing he will eat is corn-on-the-cob, no butter. Actually that is not true. He did eat half of a pile of King Taters, the spiral cut russets which are deep fried. These are my favorite favorite fair food, and I ate mine and some of Dave's. Then we bought tickets for the marching contest.

6:30--Tradition holds that you must see the World's Largest Boar, and you must be eating when you see him. It took a little planning to get food in everyone's hand. (My sno-cone was on it's last leg.) But we managed it. Then we popped in on the mule and donkey hitch races.

6:45--Stopped for corn and a lemon shake-up before heading into the ag/hort building. We made a request for Moon River from the organist playing in the middle of the room and then toured the flower arrangements and prize-winning vegetables. We chose our favorite gourd sculptures and moved on to the Home and Family Arts building, which Dave likes to call the Home and Family Farts building.

7:15--Home and Family Farts tours require that you stop by the fair queens photo wall. Patrice, a woman from our church, was a fair queen back in the '80s so we always pay homage to her picture. Dave and Ken can get way sucked into HFF. In fact, I ate an entire corn dog while listening to the Peruvian flute players outside the building before Kent was able to drag them out. It was almost time for the opening band. Dave said a woman was begging him to paint a quilty square and it was hard for him to break away. On the way to the stadium there was some discussion about how outrageous it is to ask someone to pay 4.00 for an Elephant Ear.

7:50--We run into Dave's boss, whom he calls Misses, who slips some snack money into his pocket before the show starts.

7:55--Ken leaves us and we make it into the stands just in time. The band contest is serious. We give scores, but we have to do it quietly because parents are all around us. We use hand signals. I'm quickly dubbed the Paula Abdul of the bunch because I'm an easy grader. Kent notes that points are struck if there is too much (translation: any) interpretive dance in the program. We cheer extra loud for the brave boys in the flag corps.

8:45--Dave informs me that my scores are all over the place. And in between performances we express our thanks to Dave's Boss with a thank you note written on one of the fans they hand out at the marching contest.

10:55--We stay for the end of the show, but not the judging. You have to rush home to catch that on the news.

I don't know if I'll get invited back next year, but I'll always have the memories from this one.

Hello Claire

2006-08-07T19:13:00.000-07:00

This is Claire. She's our new dog and we love her. The humane society said she's part Basenji, an African hunting breed. Dave said he thinks the other part is Holstein.

John and I credit our decision to get a dog to watching one too many episodes of The Dog Whisperer, with which we are obsessed.

We thought about a Newfoundland, but when I found out they sling slobber onto your ceiling when they shake their heads I had second thoughts. Plus their turds are the size of firewood. We decided I would go the Humane Society to see if there might be any matches for our family there.

There were four "green tag" dogs. Green tags are put on the cages of dogs who are ready to go home with most any family that same day. Yellow tags are given to dogs who are "challenging," as in "the jaws of that 80 lb. Pit Bull will challenge your arm to stay attached to your body."

I didn't notice Claire at first. When I finally saw her she wasn't barking or excited like the other dogs. In fact, she just rested her head on her paws and stared up at me with a sad and slightly annoyed look on her face. I thought to myself, "that is so how I would feel if I had to be here." Ashleigh, the volunteer who was helping me let me take Claire to one of the "get to know you" rooms they have. Even then she wasn't effusive and she wouldn't look at me. She just leaned against my leg and occassionally licked my hand. I told Ashleigh that I was definitely interested in taking Claire home (btw, her name at the H.S. was Kiki. I couldn't bring myself to call her that so we renamed her). John needed to meet her too and couldn't until the next day, so Ashleigh took Claire back to her cage.

When John and I returned Ashleigh saw me and said she was glad I came back because Claire was very sad for the rest of the day after I left (I know it's a line, but it totally worked on me). This time when they brought her to the room she was much happier to see me and warmed up to John right away. He liked her and we decided to adopt her, but it was too late to process our request that night so she had to go back to her cage. She got inside without a fuss but then turned around to give me a look so confused and deeply disappointed I felt like spending the night in the cage just so she would know we weren't abandoning her.

But it turned out we needed the extra night to get ready for her. I rushed around the next morning and got supplies and a couple of toys. I picked her up as soon as the Humane Society opened. They made me sit in the lobby so they could bring her out to me. She was the happiest I'd seen her when she came through the door. You never know how things are going to go once a dog is on the "outside", but she was fine. She climbed up in the passenger side of the Jeep and just sat there as we drove. Didn't try to stick her head out the window or get in my face, just sat there looking at me or at the passing scenery.

Her bio at the H.S. said her family had to leave her when they moved. Surely they were heartbroken. She's so great! She's sweet. She doesn't bark. She stays off the furniture. She's housetrained. She walks on a leash well. She loves the neighbors. When it is time for bed she just lays down on the floor on my side (John is trying to make her switch to his) and stays there until we get up, no noise, nothing. John took her to the vet today (she has a bad cough and an infected eye). He said everyone talked about how well behaved she was.

Claire has had a few visitors. John's mom came by to see her and we took her up to play by the lake near her house and she loved that. I wish I'd had my camera, but I didn't. Will remember next time. Dave came by Friday night. Laying on our extremely dirty floor with her made Claire a big fan. Dave also helped get her used to the crate we keep her in when she has to be alone. He models his technique below.

How did we ever get along without this dog?

Shouldn't Bigfoot Be A Gay Icon?

2006-08-02T12:32:00.000-07:00

Why don't more people love Bigfoot? I started telling some friends at dinner the other night about a recent National Geographic documentary about him. My revelations elicited a silent response and blank stares rather than the quickly drawn gasps and clinking of forks dropped onto china in surprise that one might expect. In fact, John felt compelled to clarify that I was the only one actually watching the program; he was just in the same room.

In the documentary we met a Tennessee hill woman with whom a Russian anthropologist was living so he could record her stories of a Bigfoot family who had lived nearby for years. Evidently Bigfoots are more social creatures in Tennessee (isn't everyone?) because now and then one would knock on her back door to borrow a cup of sugar or something like that. She would, of course, politely oblige him proving once again that you can safely bet on Southerners to score above average in the good neighbor department.

The woman's memory was sharp enough that she could reproduce the request while mimicking the creature's voice. In case you're wondering, Bigfoot sounds like Kirstie Alley, only 20 years older and after she's sucked the air from a helium balloon. Hill woman also told how she watched a Bigfoot take a deer down with its bare hands. As she matter of factly described the procedure the Russian earnestly reenacted it using a sytrofoam deer dummy. I feel certain that each night when she retires to her bedroom this woman buries her face in a pillow and laughs herself to sleep.

I think I'm so into Bigfoot, and the people who see them, because I was a child of the 70s when that shaky film footage of Bigfoot crossing a dry forest creek bed was reaching the public. It didn't matter to me that the forest was in Washington state and I lived in Arkansas. Bigfoot existed and all he needed was the sun, the air and some shade trees to make him happy. Surely some of his kind were poking around the Ozarks. Turns out, I was almost right. His swampy cousin was spotted in the bayous and bean fields of Fouke, AR. The Fouke Monster's story was retold with so-awful-its-inspired genius in Charles B. Pierce's The Legend of Boggy Creek (1972). A true story told in documentary form with real locals (heavy on the real), Pierce also managed to patch in what looks like leftover 1960s Arkansas game and fish commission publicity footage and even a bizarre musical score ("Hey, Travis Crabtree...Wait a minute for me..."). If you have any sense of irony, this movie won't dissappoint, but do watch it with friends. I want to have a "Legend of Boggy Creek" party for Halloween this year. Maybe my AR friends will host one at the same time and we can blog the event simultaneously.

The movie isn't really scary though (unless you fear poor editing), and that is because Bigfoot isn't scary. Bigfoot is us, and not just gay folks. No, true icons are meaningful to more than one group of people. Bigfoot stands in the gap (perhaps literally sometimes) for all misunderstood folks who wonder if the world hasn't gotten so crazy that they might be better off living disconnected from society, hidden in the backwoods of Arkansas--where they can get shot, trapped, and clubbed to death in an effort to preserve their species.

God Loves Children

2006-07-31T13:43:00.000-07:00

Seattle-based columnist Dan Savage (on left) has an 8-year old son whom he and his partner adopted at birth. His response to the WA and NY Supreme Courts' decisions to keep gay couples from marrying:

Both courts have found that my son’s parents have no right to marry, but what of my son’s right to have married parents?

...The courts ruled, essentially, that making my child’s life less secure somehow makes the life of a child with straight parents more secure. Both courts found that making heterosexual couples stable requires keeping homosexual couples vulnerable.

But he sees hope for the multitude of children of gay parents:

I can’t help but feel that our side must be winning...discriminating against children with same-sex parents may score the other side a few runs, but these strategies won’t win the game.

So I’m confident that one day my son will live in a country that allows his parents to marry. His parents are already married, as far as he’s concerned, as my boyfriend and I tied the knot in Canada more than a year and a half ago. We recognize, even if the courts do not, that it’s in his best interest for us to be married.

Dan and his partner are married in Canada, but here they are still legally and financially vulnerable.

Here's a note to the Christians who are thrilled with the courts' decisions: You will lose. You appear to be winning now because many of the good citizens of the U.S. don't fully understand the awful impact these decisions have on families. But allow me tell you who it will be that finally kicks your ass. That would be God and the hundreds of thousands of kids with gay parents. The kids won't come looking for you, and they won't have to because in case you haven't bothered to read the KJV Bible you club people with, God has a special place in his heart for the vulnerable among us. When God put these children in safe and secure homes, you sought to make them more vulnerable. When these kids who see and hear everything that is happening around them meet the "Christians" who worked so hard to keep their family from being equal to others, you will be lucky if all they do is pity you for being the 21st century desert-breathed Pharisees that you are.

Passion of the Anti-Semite

2006-07-29T18:03:00.000-07:00

Mel Gibson got busted for drunk driving a few days ago. From E! Online:

"I acted like a person completely out of control when I was arrested and said things I do not believe to be true and which are despicable," Gibson said in a statement.

Said what?

According to TMZ.com, Gibson called the arresting deputy a "motherf---ker," whom he was going to "f--k" on account of "he [Gibson] 'owns Malibu' and will spend all of his money to 'get even' with me [the deputy]."

Later, the Website reported, Gibson ranted about the "f--king Jews," who "are responsible for all the wars in the world," and asked the deputy, "Are you a Jew?" (Gibson, who helped build a Catholic church in Malibu, is not.)

Yeah, don't we all start shouting anti-semitic worldview we don't believe when we've had a few too many? Something about Gibson's sobered up post-arrest statement makes me more likely to believe his drunken rant. I don't judge people who struggle with alcohol abuse. It is a disease. But his sober statement seems like a lie designed to save the career of a reluctanly outed bigot.

Update: From the AP's Andrew Glazer

Meanwhile, ABC announced it had canceled a planned miniseries about the Holocaust that it was developing with Gibson's Icon Productions.

Gibson was going to do a mini-series on the Holocaust? Really? Isn't that a little like the Klan producing a Civil War documentary?

Be Encouraged, John and I Can't Get Married In WA

2006-07-27T06:49:00.000-07:00

Hey, see those guy? They're threats to the future of humanity and Washington state's Surpreme Court knows it. They ruled Wednesday that its legislature is entitled to disadvantage gay families. From the ruling (Hat tip to Pam's House Blend):

Under this standard, DOMA [Defense of Marriage Act] is constitutional because the legislature was entitled to believe that limiting marriage to opposite-sex couples furthers procreation, essential to survival of the human race, and furthers the well-being of children by encouraging families where children are reared in homes headed by the children's biological parents. Allowing same-sex couples to marry does not, in the legislature's view, further these purposes.

Really? John and I getting married will stop our straight friends from having babies? How could this possibly have been written with a straight face?

And someone PLEASE tell me, how does keeping us from getting married "encourage families where children are reared in homes headed by the children's biological parents"? Straight friends of mine, does not allowing John and I to protect our family really encourage you in some way? If I were part of a straight couple I would be offended at the implication that I need superior status over others in order to stay married. Is that really what keeps families together?

And how on God's green earth does allowing us to protect our families stand in the way of "furthering the purposes" of procreation? Please, if someone who agrees with this ruling is reading this blog, I beg you to enlighten me.

Even if procreation were central to the purpose of marriage, how would allowing us to marry be any different from allowing an aged couple or a downs syndrome couple (legal) or a hetero couple who decides not to have kids to get married?

There is no logic here, but perhaps there are some politics. It is interesting to note that this ruling was close, a 5-4 decision. None of the dissenters were up for reelection, however, two of the judges writing for the majority opinion are.

On Drunk Drivers and Gratitude

2006-07-25T12:23:00.000-07:00

Last night about 11:30 I was driving home by myself from a late showing of Strangers with Candy, thinking to myself about how it was not as inspired as the TV series of the same name. I suspected the movie might be lackluster, but I like Amy Sedaris and I couldn’t resist seeing Stephen Colbert (thankfully he was worth the price of the ticket). John opted not to go with me because he had to get up early and hadn’t slept that well the night before.

As I approached the intersection of 10th and College wondering how Sedaris maintained that ridiculously large overbite throughout the entire film I noticed a rusty LTD coming from the opposite direction. It gently swerved into my lane. At first I thought the driver decided to make a last minute left turn onto 10th so I slowed down, but once it got into my lane it just stayed there heading straight toward me. I honked but it kept coming and finally I had just enough time to jerk the wheel to the right, avoiding what was probably a drunk driver but not the very large curb I was forced onto that popped my tire and crushed my rim.

Rattled I got out to look at the damage. The car wasn’t going anywhere. A guy waiting at the bus stop on the corner asked me if I had a spare, which I did. As I opened the trunk a pick-up pulled next to me. A wiry guy got out, probably in his 40s, buzz-cut and wearing a wife-beater. I could hear him repeating in a strong Kentucky accent a series of numbers and letters. I finally figured out he was saying the license plate number of the car that ran me off the road. I grabbed a pen and paper and wrote it down.

“I saw it all and drove back to give it to you. Here’s my name and phone number.” He started telling me about how his car had been totaled recently by someone with no insurance. “You need a phone or anything?” Actually I did. I’d left mine at home, of course. “Yeah, I need to call my…” I tried to think of a word that wouldn’t get me jumped on a dark Midwestern street at midnight. “The guy I live with,” was all my scrambled brain could come up with. I felt guilty that fear had gotten the best of me. He let me borrow his phone, but even as I dialed I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to wake John up. If he has trouble sleeping one night, he’ll usually take an Ambian the next. Sure enough, no answer.

Trying to avoid further conversation I said, “He’s probably asleep. I’ll just fix the flat myself. I think I have what I need. If not, I’ll just walk home and get John. I don’t live too far from here (a lie, we live about a 40 minute walk from that corner).” I thanked him for taking the trouble of coming back and he left.

Turns out I had everything I needed but a tire iron, which comes in handy when changing a flat, so I started walking toward home. Soon a sputtering, beat-up Beretta pulled up and rolled down its window. “Is that your car back there? Do you need any help?” It was a woman in her 20s. I could here a baby crying in the back seat.

“Actually, I’m walking home to get some things to fix it.”

“Do you live near here?”

“I live up in Holy Cross. Would you mind dropping me off at Highland ST,” which would cut about 15 minutes off my walk. In retrospect, I can’t believe I asked a young woman to give me a ride at midnight on 10th Street. If I’d been her, I probably would have said no. But she said, “sure.” She told me she was on her way home from work and had just picked up her baby. I thanked her profusely and got out at Highland.

I started walking along darker streets, praying for safety. A few blocks in I noticed a man walking toward me carrying some sort of stick. I tried to look taller, clutching my keys like a fist full of silver dollars, ready to throw a punch if I needed to. As I got closer I heard the guy say, “Hi Sweetie!” It was John and he was carrying a tire iron.

“What are you doing out here, with a tire iron?” I asked. For a half-second I wondered if he wasn’t some midnight mirage conjured up by fear and a need for sleep.

“The phone kept ringing. I couldn’t get to it in time so I pushed star 69 to find out who it was. A guy asked if I knew someone with a white Grand Am. When I said I did he told me what happened. He asked me, ‘Who is he to you?’ and I told him you were my partner. I’m too Ambianized to drive, so I grabbed a tire iron and started walking.” I don’t know how John knew I needed a tire iron, but it didn’t surprise me. He’s like a walking Swiss army knife.

I used John’s phone to report the license of the drunk driver as we walked back to the car. Even Ambianzed, John put on the spare. “I’ve put brakes on this car so many times, it will take us longer to drive home than for me to replace the tire.” I was amazed, but he was right. He chatted the entire time, probably trying to keep himself awake. As he worked, several other drivers stopped and asked if we needed help, all driving cars as beat up as ours. The nicer cars kept moving. I felt like I was living a 21st century version of The Good Samaritan story.

When we got the spare on we realized it had about a frog’s breath worth of air in it. We said a prayer and drove on it anyway. 10 mph all the way. By the time we pulled up in front of the house we were driving on the rim, but we made it.

I know I should be mad about the drunk driver and my own stupidity for not carrying a phone and a decent spare, but honestly, I can’t stop thinking about how kind people were—complete strangers in the middle of the night and in a not so great part of town. And on top of that, God is gracious enough to have me living with my own guardian angel. I’m bizarrely grateful for the experience.

A Good Day

2006-07-22T18:23:00.000-07:00

Got up this morning feeling really great because it was Saturday and all I had to do was fruit and vegetable shopping, some yardwork, and watch The Guru which Netflix sent yesterday.

John was sleeping in so I went downstairs to make us some coffee. I stood looking out the back door window drinking from the little chipped yellow cup that I always use. I scanned the garden, thanking God that the scheduled high would only be 83 degrees today. My eye stopped at a long black lump lying in the middle of the yard. The lump didn’t move. The only motion I could detect were a few flies buzzing around the lump.

At first I thought it was the neighbor cat from across the street who likes to slink along the ground and make ridiculous attempts at catching the birds in our yard (silly city cats), but something didn’t look right—the lump was too flat, and what might have been fur was wet and wet cats and “still” don’t go together.

I thought about actually going outside to get a closer look at the lump, but that would obligate me to act upon whatever I found. This would not be a problem if the lump turned out to be a piece of plastic or cloth blown into the yard by last night’s storm. But if the lump happened to be a lump of something dead, well, I don’t really do "dead." I feel that "dead" is John’s job. That’s what he gets for never flinching at all of those Discovery Channel medical shows where someone is having their eyeball sewn shut or open, or whatever it is they do with eyeballs on the Discovery Channel. I wouldn’t know because I stumble from the room with my hands over my eyes at the first sight of a sharp object approaching skin. I half-heartedly dissected my frog in high school and held my breath through the dissection of my shark in college. My skin-poking cup runneth over to this day. I know all of the arguments for making TV a more educational media outlet, but I’ll happily sit through a rerun of Andy Griffith I’ve seen 40 times before I watch skin being sliced. Obviously, someone with my delicate sensibilities was never meant to deal with the possibility of a dead something lying in the yard. I took a sip of coffee from my obligation-free perch and waited a little longer to see if the lump would move. It didn’t.

So I fixed a bowl of Grapenuts and headed to the front porch, away from the lump, to wait for John to get up. Eventually John came downstairs. I had a nice cup of coffee and a nonchalant “there seems to be a long black lump in the middle of the back yard” waiting for him. He also got a serving of “No, I thought you’d bet better suited to move something like that” when he came back inside from looking at it.

Turns out the lump was a cat after all. A stray we think, and it was indeed dead. I congratulated myself on my earlier decision not to investigate. “No signs of a fight,” John said. How nice, I thought. The cat went through all the trouble of staggering from wherever it was and up a hill just so he could die in the middle of our back yard. What an over-achiever. John thinks his dying words might have been "Must...pee...on...Spruce..."

Feeling a little guilty-- about my less than helpful attitude, not about my irritation with the cat for dying in our yard--I helped John rig the trash bag coffin—double-bagged grocery sacks surrounded by two double-ply garbage bags. I watched from inside the back door as John struggled to get the now stiff cat into the grocery sacks with a pitchfork, the cat’s paws sticking out at just the right angles to make entry into the bag impossible. “Even when they’re dead cats won’t go anywhere they don’t want to,” I thought as I finished my cup of coffee.

My guilt getting the best of me I hollered out to John, “Need help?”

“Yep.”

“Damn,” I thought. “Okay, I’ll get my shoes,” I yelled. But by the time I got outside the cat was in all of the bags and tied up. We started thinking about dumpsters we could drop it in. In an effort to recover my valor I volunteered to put the bag in a box and find a dumpster. I drove to our church, which has a very nice one. I ran into my friends Mark and Mike who were doing yard work on the church grounds.

“Come to help?” Mark asked.

“No, a cat died in our yard and I thought I’d put it in the church dumpster.”

“Oh, well drop this pile of grass and leaves on it when you do and you can say you buried it,” and that is just what I did with my friends watching. All things considered, the cat made a pretty good end of life decision. He died in a decent yard, got a high-quality bag casket and a same-day church burial. Even though his funeral director didn’t have the best attitude, I like to believe that this cat, as all cats do, got his way in the end.

A Prayer for Two Dads

2006-07-21T05:45:00.000-07:00

If you're the praying kind, would you mind sending one up for two friends of ours and their daughter? They are in court today working to stay together as a family. I'm not sharing names for privacy reasons.

Earlier this year they adopted a little girl from a young mother who asked them to. They were thrilled to do so and have loved and taken great care of this child from day one. The biological mom is a good woman who just wasn't able to care for her. She knew these guys would. The biological father (the mom's boyfriend) kicked her out of his apartment when he found out she was pregnant. His mother decided he needed to raise the little girl, but neither he nor she has EVER made an effort to see her in the nearly six months the little girl has been alive. Neither the grandmother nor the bio-dad have stable lives.

The two dads have a loving and long-committed home life, have made good financial decisions, have a strong connection to their church, and a loving extended family and network of friends.

In Indiana, a biological parent has 30 days to interupt an adoption, and the dad reappeared during that first month at his mother's urging. Indiana laws also tend to favor blood relationships. Let's hope what is in the best interest of the child enters the picture. I don't pretend not to be biased. I know the two dads and the little girl. They are about as happy and healthy a family as I've ever seen. I'm praying that they are able to stay together.

Fry Day Memories

2006-07-18T20:05:00.000-07:00

Every two years or so we thumb our nose at the American Heart Association and invite folks to Tulip Hill for the grease poppin' blowout known as Fry Day. This year I talked some of my dearest Batesville friends, the McClain sisters, Lori, Julie (Gunstream Girl), and Jennie (Trimandfashionable)and their significant others, J. and Tommy, into making a trek up here for the occassion. Not only did they drive 9 hours to visit (5 for Julie and Tommy) they came ready to help--loaded with fresh okra, dinnerware, drinks, music and a homemade cake that said, "Like it? Fry it!" on the top (the mangled remains are on the table in the picture). McClain mom, Ms. Pat, raised these girls right. We spent the day Saturday chopping, prepping, shopping and reliving memories of childhood summer fish fries.
I found a roll of bacon tape I'd bought which made nice nametags. Julie models her bacon strip here.

When things really got going we had a fryer outside for the catfish, hushpuppies, fried pickles (pickle-o's), french fries, and okra (Jennie's recipe, and maybe the best fried okra I've ever had!). Inside, John's mom figured out how to fry black-eyed pea fritters (another sleeper hit).

After that things got a little crazy, and eventually people were frying Oreos and Raspberry Newtons (a favorite of mine), and the desserts people brought. Lori found a Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pie in her purse so we fried that too. You can tell by the look on her face that she has a healthy respect for hot grease.

The pictures don't do the event justice, but this one sort of says it all. Gayle (2nd from the right) had her birthday that night so we sang Happy Fryday to her. You could tell she was really touched.

There aren't too many friends who will indulge this level of red neckedness (even I was a little overwhelmed), but everybody got into the spirit of things. We sat on the front porch talking and laughing until about 2:00 a.m. stacking up plenty of memories to last us until Fry Day 2008.

Karen Black and Jeannie Kendall-When Google Searches Collide

2006-07-13T21:31:00.000-07:00

Growing up as teenagers in Arkansas my friends and I didn't think of ourselves as hicks, which is, of course, the sign of a true hick. We weren't completely naive either. Maturing during the hyper self-conscious late 70s and early 80s, reading Rolling Stone and watching daily doses of All My Children made it clear to us that we were by no means worldly. But all we needed was thirty minutes with our friends from TRUE Ozark provinces like Desha, Cushman, and Oil Trough to reassure us that our world was, at least, respectably larger than theirs.

Being a citizen of that larger world meant staying current on techno, new wave bands, and keeping any love of country music on the DL. Dolly Parton and for whatever reason, bluegrass, were exluded from this moratorium (probably because we were hicks). Most of the time ignoring country music was not a problem. But every three years or so, my friend Felley and I would end up going on this closet country kick where we would start listening to KWOZ (the only local country station around for a long while). One of my weaknesses was The Kendalls, the father and daughter duo. Their hits Heaven's Just a Sin Away and If You're Waitin' on Me kept me watching Hee-Haw out of the corner of my eye on Saturday evenings for a few years looking for appearances (no CMT then). I don't think Felley ever let things get that far out of hand, watching Hee-Haw I mean.

I went on a Kendalls Googling binge not too long ago, just to see what became of them and especially Jeannie Kendall's voice, which was like a cross between sweet tea and liquid mercury. Turns out father Royce passed on in 1998, but Jeannie has moved to Yellville, Arkansas about three counties away from Batesville. Don't think I'm not tempted to stalk. It wouldn't be hard. Yellville isn't that big. After being out of the limelight for about 10 years, Jeannie put out a couple of really nice albums. I'd settle for seeing her perform, but can't figure out where she and her band play now.

Along with my little country roots quest, I've been revisiting quirky movies of the 1970s, too. After seeing Bob Altman's Prairie Home Companion I decided to combine the country/quirky movie searches by re-watching Altman's 1975 snapshot of American values, Nashville.

I'm no film studies major, and I don't pretend to understand all the nuances of Altman's movies, but Nashville is so darn interesting and entertaining to me, even with its slow, melancholy pace. The soundtrack makes me laugh (the actors wrote their own songs). One of my favorite characters is Connie White, the churlish, blonde and big-haired stand-in for every 70s Nashville starlet with a sense of self that was simultaneously over-inflated with pride and waterlogged with insecurity. It was a smallish role for Karen Black, who was big back then, but she nailed it. In fact I was so impressed with her performance that I went on a Google marathon for her, too! She also has been keeping a pretty low profile for the last 15 years or so, (fun fact: Karen is a scientologist). But guess what project she did last year. A music video for one of Jeannie Kendall's new songs, You Just Don't Get Me, Do Ya!

Now I ask you, what are the chances?! The video sucks and Karen's bit is pretty uninspired, but still, I would love to shake the hand of the production assistant whose off-beat taste in films made him or her think to get Karen back for a campy Nashville music video of a song by a blond artist from the 70s. Art happens everywhere.

Our Podcast Interviews--John's Turn

2006-07-13T07:19:00.000-07:00

Tom from South Bend, Indiana has a podcast show called The Ramble Redhead Show. He interviewed John and I about our relationship and the We Do Too exhibition. The interview with my boy is up now.

If you want to hear John's interview, click HERE. Tom has a full time job, but manages to interview people constantly. I wish I'd had access to his show when I was younger. If you think of it, leave him a comment thanking him for what he is doing for the world by capturing all kinds of stories. He's created a 21st century campfire for us to talk around.

Adam Carolla Helps Ann Coulter Jump the Shark

2006-07-12T19:34:00.000-07:00

I thought it might have happened when the right-wing racial profiling advocate was INVITED (!?) to speak at Philander Smith College, a historically African-American school in Little Rock. Her quote of the evening was:

"We need somebody to put rat poisoning in [Supreme Court] Justice Stevens' creme brulee," Coulter said. "That's just a joke, for you in the media."

Hilarious!

Then I wondered if it would be when the cleft of her cloven hoof lifted the cigarette out of her mouth long enough for her to start spewing insults at the 9/11 widows.

Nope.

No, it took perpetual frat boy and radio talk show host Adam Carolla, to show just how irrelevant Ann Coulter is. She dialed in an hour and a half late for her interview with him and then made some comment about being short on time. He hung up on her.

Crooks and Liars has the audio HERE.

Here is a transcript:

ADAM CAROLLA: Ann Coulter, who was suppose to be on the show about an hour and a half ago, is now on the phone, as well. Ann?

ANN COULTER: Hello.

CAROLLA: Hi Ann. You’re late, babydoll.

COULTER: Uh, somebody gave me the wrong number.

CAROLLA: Mmm… how did you get the right number? Just dialed randomly — eventually got to our show? (Laughter in background)

COULTER: Um, no. My publicist e-mailed it to me, I guess, after checking with you.

CAROLLA: Ahh, I see.

COULTER: But I am really tight on time right now because I already had a —

CAROLLA: Alright, well, get lost. [Click]

Gee Fonzie, that wasn't so hard.

Our Podcast Interviews

2006-07-11T07:45:00.000-07:00

Tom from South Bend, Indiana has a podcast show called The Ramble Redhead Show. He interviewed John and I about our relationship and the We Do Too exhibition. The interview with me is up now. John's is supposed to be up soon.

If you want to hear the current interview, click HERE. It was nice of Tom to talk about the show. Tom is a super person who is impacting lots of lives literally over world, especially those of young gay people who often have limited ways to get information about their community.

Tom's future podcasts will include our friends Todd and Duane (who told him about the exhibition --thanks Duane!) and our friend Alice who is an amazing woman from our church who creates family for people with AIDS.

Eric and Chris in Tajikistan

2006-07-09T11:39:00.000-07:00

Eric Eating Kabobs
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Our friends Eric and Chris are visiting Tajikistan. Click here to visit their travel journal. While you are there, drop them a note and tell them Troy sent you.

Chris will be there for six months working. Eric got to go over for a month, but will come back to start teaching at his new high school this fall. They are in for a long five months once Eric has to return.

But for now it sounds like they are having a great time. Eric is especially happy because he's had great luck finding pants that fit him over there (his journal entry on his smaller pant size travails in the U.S. is very funny). Eric may be kind of small in this country, but in Tajikistan he is average size and they hem pants right on the street while you wait!

Chris and a Friend at a Tajikistan Museum
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

I love this picture of Chris putting himself into an exhibit at a museum. Chris and Eric are both funny people, but Chris tends to look pretty serious no matter what the situation is, which made me think at first that he was just underdressed for a party he was attending.

Broadway Church is missing you guys!

Michigan Should've Known Better

2006-07-06T05:03:00.000-07:00

From PageoneQ:

A conservative group on Wednesday sued to stop Michigan State University from offering health insurance to the partners of gay workers and said the school is violating a 2004 amendment to the state constitution.

The American Family Association of Michigan filed the lawsuit in Ingham County Circuit Court and hopes to get a ruling setting a precedent that would block domestic partner benefits at other state universities...

Sad thing is there are already similar cases making their way through the courts in Michigan. More reasons why state constitutional amendments restricting gay marriage are bad. Families like mine had very few protections to begin with. Now "Christian" organizations like the American Family Association are working to take those away. Isn't that just like Jesus? No wonder so many gay people run screaming from the church.

Hiking at Shades State Park

2006-07-03T13:08:00.000-07:00

Karen, Marc, and John
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

John and I went hiking with our friends Karen and Marc at Shades State Park here in Indiana last Saturday. Before we left we had to stop at Starbucks. They started fixing Marc's drink as soon as they saw him coming through the door. Marc is sort of the unofficial mayor of their neighborhood.

When we finally parked at Shades, Marc and then Karen stopped in at the little toilet hut to the side of the lot. I tried to go, but when I opened the door I decided I could wait. I draw the line at flies hovering over the toilet. Fortunately for me, 20 yards away was a sign that pointed to a "Modern Toilet." I think the only thing that made it modern was that the toilet flushed, but after what I'd just smelled a time machine wouldn't have struck me as any more impressive.

John Checking out the Devil's Punchbowl
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

This is John in the bottom of the "Devils' Punchbowl." Why is it that all geographical features named in the 19th or early 20th centuries have the name "devil" attached them? Is it some man vs. nature thing? In Arkansas there is "Devil's Den", in Indiana, there is "Devil's Icebox" and "Devil's Backbone.' I liked the name "Devil's Punchbowl." I can just see satan futzing around looking for all of the little crystal cups that go with it. Made me wonder where the "Devil's Serving Tray" might be. John thought we should look for the "Devil's Chafing Dish."

Moss on the Devil's Punchbowl
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

This is moss on the side of the Devil's Punchbowl. Looks like the Devil's Dishwasher needs to be fired up.

As we passed people on their way to the trails Marc and Karen made a point of remarking to each other about the incredibly large snake we'd run into. We didn't see a snake (I don't even think they have snakes in Indiana). But striking fear into the hearts of innocent strangers is a nice way to end a hike.

(Note: Were it not for Karen you would not be seeing pictures from our trip. I took our camera and was snapping away, but about an hour in I realized that I'd left the memory card at home and our camera has no internal memory. Thanks Karen. You're the devil's meow).

How I Know Arkansas Legislators Don't Read

2006-07-01T13:08:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you saw that the Arkansas Supreme Court upheld lower court rulings that found it illegal to disallow qualified gay people to serve as foster parents. It was a sweeping and unanimous decision certain to fan the impeaching flames of the anti-independent judiciary crowd. Based on the overwhelming scientific evidence, which opponents of gay parents choose to ignore, the Arkansas Supreme Court had the following to say (From Pageoneq):

Children of lesbian and gay parents are just as well-adjusted as children of heterosexual parents; Being raised by gay parents doesn’t increase the risk of psychological, behavioral, academic, gender identity, or any other sort of adjustment problems; Being raised by gay parents doesn’t prevent children from forming healthy relationships with their peers and others; There is no factual basis for saying that gay parents might be less able to guide their children through adolescence than heterosexual parents; There is no evidence that gay people, as a group, are more likely to engage in domestic violence or sexual abuse than heterosexual people; The exclusion of gay people and people with gay family members may be harmful to children because it excludes a pool of effective foster parents...

The Court went on to say that the state’s argument to the contrary “flies in the face” of the scientific evidence about the suitability of lesbian and gay people as foster parents. The Court added that “the driving force behind adoption of the regulation was not to promote the health, safety, and welfare of foster children, but rather based upon the Board’s view of morality and its bias against homosexuals."

The unanimous supreme court ruling included the decision of:

A special justice appointed to the case by Gov. Mike Huckabee, Frank Poff of Texarkana...[Poff] also questioned the state’s legal arguments. He was substituting for Justice Tom Glaze, who recused from the case. [He remarked that]

“You have no evidence to support that gay foster parents are bad for children,” Poff told Hall. “You’re standing here saying we can’t take a chance.”

It also was noted that a ban on gay foster parents was imposed even though there is NO history of problems with gay foster parents in the past.

Even with a Huckabee-appointed judge deciding that evidence reveals gay people are as qualified as straight folks to be foster parents, the "activist judges" chorus still tuned up for a concert. And who's that leading the choir? Bill-Frist -wannabe, Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee.

"I'm very disappointed that the court seems more interested in what's good for gay couples than what's good for children needing foster care," Huckabee said through his spokeswoman Alice Stewart.

Dude, stop obssessing over your figure, your ignored covenant marriage initiative, and your certain to fail presidential bid long enough to read the ruling that some of your own people spent time and state tax dollars to write.

And perhaps the most painful response comes from a Democrat and fellow citizen of Batesville:

Sen. Jack Critcher, D-Batesville, the Senate pro temporedesignate for the 2007 legislative session, and Rep. Benny Petrus, D-Stuttgart, the speaker of the House-designate for the session, said they were willing to consider a legislative response to the ruling.

Critcher said lawmakers support the policy of limiting foster care to married couples.

“Understanding that, I would think that there’s probably substantial support in the Legislature for a law that would authorize [the Department of Health and Human Services ] to enact the policy they had in place,” Critcher said.

Way to do your research Critcher. Why bother reading the court ruling? Who needs to know what even a Huckabee-appointed judge found in peer-reviewed, scientific studies about gay parents? And who cares that there are not enough married heterosexual foster homes to care for these kids whose ideal upbringing you pretend to care so much about? And by the way, if there is anything that irritates me more than an "anything to win a race" Republican, it is an "I'm too afraid of losing my seat to have a backbone" Democrat.

A brighter side to this? There is one. The large number of studies that shaped the Supreme Court's decision are solid and convincing. Even if a self-serving or willingly ignorant legislator ignores them, every time this subject is debated, the data is broadcast to a broader audience. You can read it for yourself by ordering a copy (free) of Too High a Price: The Case Against Restricting Gay Parenting. Just Google the book title. I tried to link to the book order page, but blogger wouldn't let me. Not sure why.

In any case, don't assume that your legislator will read the studies for you. These days they don't have to be intelligent or fair to be reelected, merely willing to pander to ignorance and fear.

Summer Radio Songs

2006-06-28T10:19:00.000-07:00

It is beautiful out today--sunny and warm. I was driving with the windows down listening to Pete Townsend's Let My Love Open the Door, which I believe is a quintessential summer radio song. Two questions came to mind.

1. What makes a great summer radio song?

2. What are quintessential summer radio songs?

My answers:

To question 1:
Instantly recognizable intro. Must remind me of summers in jr. high, high school and college when life was at its most carefree (even though I was slaving away as a carry out boy at Town and Country grocery store). And it must make me smile.

To question 2:
Aside from LMLOTD,
The Manhattan's Shining Star
Steven Winwood's While You See a Chance
Gap Band's Early in the Morning
The Kinks' Come Dancing
Eurythmics Right By Your Side
The Cars Magic or Shake it Up
Kenny Loggins' I'm Alright (theme from Caddyshack)
Delite's Groove is the Heart
U2's Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

I never said I have good taste in music. Still, this list could go forever! I'll stop there.

Ex-gay Ministries and the Exodus Conference

2006-06-27T05:40:00.000-07:00

You may or may not know that in the 1990s I spent several years in counseling and in church support groups working to change my sexual orientation. I was part of an Exodus affiliated ministry in Texas called Living Hope. Exodus is hosting its annual conference in Marion, Indiana this week and having them so close has brought up some conflicted feelings for me.

I am not sorry for the time I spent with Living Hope. At the time it was the first place I could admit that I was gay (they would call it same-sex attracted). This was before things got so politicized in our society. Efforts focused primarily on strengthening a participant's relationship with God and living as a heterosexual person, either single and celibate or married to someone of the opposite sex (some of the guys had married women even though they were attracted to men). The "getting closer to God" efforts were really helpful for me. They helped me deal with the spiritual abuse of being told from the time I was a small child that my natural feelings made me an "abomination" to God and that I should be stoned outside of the "village."

Living Hope stressed being honest with God about who you were and letting God be honest with you about the same thing. And that eventually led me to a place that is much healthier for me.

I do not remember meeting gay people who changed their attractions. I met wonderful people, a few of whom developed relationships with the opposite sex by sublimating their dominant attractions, or in the case of bisexual people ignoring one part of their attractions. Most maintained a stance of constant vigilence in their attempts to stay "straight." For many the group became their family and friends.

Eventually, it was clear to me (especially after my own attempts at dating the opposite sex) that forming long-term relationships with women was not natural for me and could be disastrous for any poor woman I talked into a marriage. And yet, I did not feel called to be single either. It was a revelation that led me to revisit a lot of the biblical interpretation I'd inherited and ultimately opened me up enough to connect with John, at first as friends and ultimately as the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. If the journey had led me nowhere else but to him, it would have been worth it. But the trip has given me a lot more in terms of strength, faith, and my ability love others and myself.

A good friend of mine says "God doesn't waste anything" and I believe that. So even though a big chunk of Exodus has turned into a political tool for the currently misinformed religious right, I am grateful for my time with them. I know that many, many people had much more abusive experiences with ex-gay ministries--genital shock treatment (a thing of the past I hope), innappropriate relationships, etc.-- but I pray that the good things that were there for me can still lead people like those who attend the conference in Marion this week to a healthier place, however that might look like for them.

Very Sweet

2006-06-26T17:56:00.000-07:00

Did everybody know about this but me? From the U.K.

Heath Ledger has asked 'Brokeback Mountain' co-star Jake Gyllenhaal to be his baby's godfather.

The actors got so close while shooting the gay cowboy drama, Heath decided he wanted Jake to be involved in his daughter's life.

The 'Donnie Darko' star admits he was thrilled to be asked to help raise little Matilda, Heath's daughter with partner Michelle Williams.

Jake told Britain's Daily Mirror newspaper: "Heath and I are best friends now, making the film was very intense for us.
"I'm actually godfather to Heath's daughter Matilda which is an amazing honour."

I think Jake would be a great goddad and even a great dad. He needs to settle down and find the right somebody first, but his kids won't go hungry. Jake loves to cook. In his spare time chef-superstar, Mario Batali lets him do prep work in his restaurants. Jake says it chills him out.

The Attack on Gay Parents

2006-06-23T07:08:00.000-07:00

I don't normally quote an entire column, but this gay dad's (Dan Savage) article about attacks on gay parents is so on target I had to. It came from The Stanger, a Seattle newspaper.

"My son had a fever, and it was spiking—103, 104, 105. The nurse on the phone told us to fill a tub with cold water, dump in whatever ice we had in the freezer, and set him in the bath to break his fever. Five minutes later we were standing in the bathroom, empty ice trays in the sink, watching the tub slowly fill with cold water. I didn't have the heart to do it—I couldn't just set my feverish, distraught son into a tub full of ice water. So I did what any decent parent would do: I got undressed, stepped into the tub first, and sat down. Then my boyfriend handed our son to me. We sat there together, ice cubes floating around us, my son's thin, warm arms wrapped around my neck, until his fever broke.

My partner and I adopted eight years ago. Like any other couple who wants to adopt, we had to earn the right to sit in tubs filled with ice water—and catch vomit in our cupped hands, enjoy week-long sleep-deprivation marathons, and all the other perks of parenthood. We had to open our financial records for inspection, submit to criminal background checks, and welcome social workers into our heads. When the time came, the courts in the state where we adopted treated us like any other couple, allowing us to do one expensive joint adoption rather than two twice-as-expensive single-parent adoptions [John and I will have to do two single-parent adoptions here in Indiana].

At the time we adopted, only one state—Florida—banned adoptions by same-sex couples. Now it is illegal in half a dozen states, and if the American Taliban gets its way, soon it will be illegal in more. USA Today reported in February that religious conservatives, emboldened by their successful efforts to pass anti-gay-marriage laws and get anti-gay-marriage amendments approved in dozens of states, are planning to push for bans on adoptions by same-sex couples.

"Now that we have defined what marriage is, we need to take that further and say children deserve to be in that relationship," Greg Quinlan, a conservative activist, told USA Today. Anti-gay-adoption laws are being "drafted or discussed," according to USA Today, in Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Georgia, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, Missouri, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, and West Virginia.

And in Oregon too, the state where my boyfriend and I adopted our son, the state that eight years ago treated us like any other couple.

The arguments social conservatives use against adoptions by same-sex couples are every bit as dishonest as the arguments they employ against same-sex marriage. They point to studies that show children with married parents do better than those with single parents (ignoring the fact that these studies measure the benefits of having two parents, not two opposite-sex parents), and they refuse to acknowledge the existence of numerous studies that show children raised by same-sex couples do just as well as children raised by heterosexual couples.

Perhaps most infuriating, opponents of adoptions by gay and lesbian couples seek to create the impression that there is a home—a heterosexual home—for every child waiting to be adopted. All children deserve, the religious right argues, a mother and a father. It's a blandly appealing nod to normalcy that masks an insidious insult: When it comes to adoption, any heterosexual couple—any heterosexual couple at all, however dysfunctional—is preferable to even the healthiest homosexual couple. All same-sex couples are, by definition, unfit to parent.

The right has been allowed to frame this debate thus far, but I believe we can reframe it by demanding that any effort to outlaw adoptions by same-sex couples be followed to its logical conclusion. If gays and lesbians are unfit to parent any children we might adopt, then we are surely unfit to parent the children we have already adopted. We should demand that any bill banning adoptions by same-sex couples include a provision that would require the state to remove children from the homes of same-sex couples. Adopted or biological, if the state believes that gays and lesbians are unfit parents, how can they leave the kids we're already parenting in our homes?

It's difficult to know exactly how many American children are being brought up by same-sex couples; estimates range from anywhere between 250,000 and 10,000,000. But we know how many children there are in foster care in the United States: 500,000. The foster-care system is universally acknowledged to be bankrupt and broken, so dysfunctional that it amounts to state-regulated child abuse. There aren't enough prospective parents—single, married, gay, straight—willing to adopt the kids who are currently in foster care, much less the hundreds of thousands or millions of children who would be added if the state were forced to find homes for all the children currently being raised by gay and lesbian couples.

If such a provision were attached to anti-gay-adoption laws, the religious right would no longer be able to argue about what is or isn't in the best interests of hypothetical children who may or may not be adopted in the future, but rather what's in the best interest of real children, children who have already been adopted, children who already have homes and parents. The debate would shift from how hypothetical children might do in our homes to how our real children are currently doing in our homes—and studies show they're doing fine, thank you very much. My proposed amendment to anti-same-sex-adoption laws would instantly deprive religious conservatives of their emotionally manipulative every-child-deserves-a-mother-and-a-father argument.

Instead they would be required to make a much tougher argument: that a potential lifetime in a dysfunctional foster-care system—older children are notoriously hard to place for adoption—would be better for my child than the life my partner and I are giving him. They would have to argue that it would be in my son's best interest to be taken from the father who sits in ice water with him when he has a fever and from the father who takes him to school every day. The religious right would have to argue in favor of taking everything that belongs to him from our home—his skateboard, his football, his first- and second-grade schoolwork, his beloved one-eyed dog. In addition to taking my son from his parents, the religious right would have to argue for taking him from his grandparents, his aunts, his uncles, his cousins, his friends, his teachers, his babysitter.

It is an argument they would lose."

"Tuesday Night Book Club"

2006-06-21T07:01:00.000-07:00

I was hanging out at Dave and Ken's last night. While flipping through the channels we ran across Tuesday Night Book Club. There may be a typo in the show's title. I think it was supposed to be called Tuesday Night Boob Club. But using the air night in the show's title handily eliminates the last bit of thought you might need to watch this show.

Of course five minutes of Scottsdale, AZ bimbos on parade and I was hooked like a White River catfish. I made poor Dave stay up way past his bedtime so I could finish watching it.

Part of the attraction was not being able to tell just how contrived TNBC is. All of the husbands and wives are pretty convincing as actual fake people. On the other hand, Tina's (the workaholic) child daughter psychoanalyzing her mother like a disgruntled 17-year old seemed like a rejected Dawson's Creek audition. (Note: I love Dawson's Creek.)

Either there is an inspired and raging torrent of irony running beneath the microderm abraded surface of this show, or it's just bad. It could be both.

Things I found entertaining:

-Despite the title, book spines are pretty safe in the hands of this bunch. It's as if the phrase "book club" has been a euphemism for "Botox party" for centuries.

-The blank stares of the neglectful doctor husband who loves his motorcycles more than his former-model wife. Hint for the wife: The problem isn't that he wants you to be more like the bikes; it's that you married the emotional equivalent of one.

-The hulked up bodybuilding mass of quivering insecurity that is Lynn. The scene where her friend Jenn is applying fake tanning cream to her might-as-well-be naked body lets you know who this show is REALLY for--straight men, who you can bet will be tuning in for all eight episodes. But what makes Lynn compelling isn't her manly-girl figure, it's her unstereotypical selfishness, at least for a newlywed wife (she lives at the gym). Her husband points out to her that cooking a meal for him is not on her to do list. To make things even better, Lynn's husband is as insecure and as pumped up as she is. He looks like The Rock, but he acts like Grace Adler!

-Tina, the stressed out divorced mom, is a little like Donald Trump in Mary Hart's body. And she’s a former Miss Hawaii to boot. Don't get me wrong; Tina is my favorite--driven, road-weary, and kind of bitter. She's been pressed to conform to every female stereotype and rejected them all, except that of a 1980s anchorwoman.

Now she's dares people to get in her way. More maternal with her "book" club friends than her own kids, she puts on a good show about sacrificing her private time for work so that her children can have the best coaches (the little girl didn't look like an olympic hopeful to me). But it is obvious she gets high on her personal performance. Taking arguably unethical advantage of Tina's addiction to ratings, her therapist gives her kids a chance to "score" her as well. The fact that they consistently rate her as mediocre drives her insane. While Tina's dissappointment in her kids' scores looks a little like remorse, it looks more like the frustration Lance Armstong might feel after losing a not so critical race. Her sort of shallow, self-flagellating enthusiasm makes me think that if she weren't a woman I might see her whooping it up at a Promise Keepers rally.

I don't suspect this show will really be about personal growth. Is it fake? Yes, but all of us have to deal with the fact that consumerism has made fake the new real. Why not come to terms with this by watching somewhat mannish looking girly girls not working very hard at making sense of the world?

I think I know where I’ll be Tuesday nights at 10:00 for the next six weeks.

Ready for the 4th

2006-06-19T09:55:00.000-07:00

House ready for the holiday
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Got the colors out for the 4th. Every year I toy with getting a flag for the front porch. John actually has one. He got it when he became an Eagle Scout and it is really nice. He showed it to me once. Understandably, he doesn't want to expose it to the weather too much. I got the impression that this one would not be flying over the porch.

I could order another one, but I get antsy about all of the lighting and handling protocol I don't know about. If I ordered it, John would be in charge of it's care since I know he knows what to do, and I'm sure I could learn.

But maybe the banners and the bunting are enough.

On a gardening note, you can't really see them well in the picture above, but in front of the right side of the front porch are the 10 rose bushes we planted this spring. The rose is called 'Wisley', and it looks like the picture below. The flower heads are huge and because the stems are so young the blooms kind of flop over, but they smell really good and I like the color a lot. I think the flopping will stop when the stems mature.

Speaking of gardening, we helped John's dad, Don and his wife move to their new house on Father's Day (actually just two truckloads of boxes, movers are moving the furniture later). I really like the place. It is on a wooded lot with lots of nice trees. They are going to have my friend Chris come out and draw up a landscaping plan for them, so maybe I can take some before and after shots.

Reason #2 John and I Cannot Live in Arkansas

2006-06-16T06:17:00.000-07:00

Reason #1 is because my home state wrote state-sanctioned discriminitation into its constitution (not everyone mind you, just 75% of my home folk don't think my family should have the same rights and protections that my sister's does).

Pam's Houseblend quotes the Pine Bluff Commercial and reveals reason #2:

The Arkansas Department of Health and Human Services is appealing a 2004 decision by Pulaski County Circuit Court Judge Tim Fox, who said it was unconstitutional for the state's Child Welfare Agency Review Board to bar homosexuals from becoming foster parents.

Kathy L. Hall, an attorney for the state agency, told justices that the state already bans unmarried couples who live together from becoming foster parents. Because Arkansas banned gay marriage, a homosexual couple is ineligible to have foster children, she said.

The health, safety and welfare of foster children is of the utmost concern to the state, Hall said, "and that can't happen in a home where unmarried sex occurs."

But Associate Justice Annabelle Clinton Imber pointed out that the state allows single heterosexual individuals to be foster parents, but bans single homosexuals. Hall said that a single heterosexual parent is allowed to be a foster parent because he or she "has the potential" to find a spouse; whereas a gay individual does not.

This is one of those "hidden" benefits of constitutional marriage amendments. The right wing can use it to squash other parts of gay couples' lives and the lives of children who need homes. Judge Tim Fox who handed down the original decision that it was unconstitutional to ban gay people from fostering read the research on gay parents--and there is plenty, this is no "social experiment"--and decided it was definitely in the best interest of AR's children to allow qualified gay people to be parents. There is a summary of the findings at www.wedotoo.org (click here) and a PDF book that describe 40 studies that show kids do just as well with qualified gay parents as the do with straight ones (click here).

What makes me most sad about this case in AR is that one of my best friends from Batesville testified against allowing people like John and me from adopting.

Making Me "American Nervous"

2006-06-14T12:18:00.000-07:00

My friend Kris (she and her husband Scott have been helping me get the We Do Too website off the ground) and I were talking the other day. We got off on the topic of how stressed we'd been. She and Scott were surprised to hear this on public radio's Speaking of Faith:

George M. Beard was a well-known 19th-century neurologist and electrotherapist who identified stress as "nervousness." Beard wrote in his 1881 book, American Nervousness, Its Causes and Consequences, that "American nervousness is the product of American civilization." In a chapter entitled "Causes of American Nervousness," Beard attributes nervousness to five causes:

"The chief and primary cause of … [the] very rapid increase of nervousness is modern civilization, which is distinguished from the ancient by these five characteristics: steampower, the periodical press, the telegraph, the sciences, and the mental activity of women."

I pray no therapist of mine ever has the prefix "electro" in his or her title. My favorite "causes" are the second, fourth, and last ones. I can just see this guy writing surrounded by piles of unread Scientific American magazines. And haven't we all wondered why women can't be as mentally inactive as their ancient ancestors? I suspect the "mental activities" of anyone who decides they're tired of being oppressed are likely to stress someone out.

Evidently the two women who host Speaking of Faith found modern day connections to the first four, but managed to ignore the last one.

Top Ten Things that Remind Me of Summer

2006-06-12T14:15:00.000-07:00

We just had a weekend that was in the 60s. On Saturday John built a fire in the woodstove (in the middle of JUNE)! Things are back to normal today, but the cool snap caused me to meditate a little on what reminds me of summer. I decided to turn it into a list. Send me your own.

1. Potato Salad (my mom's recipe)

2. Being in the house all day with the doors to the screen porch open so a breeze comes in and I can hear the birds sing and neighbor kids play. Indiana has cool summer nights too so we can swing on the porch outside.

3. The sound of a house fan--the louder the better. I used to sleep best in my grandparents' house when their enormous ceiling fan was going full blast. That thing was as big as a propellor on the Titanic. I eyed an old one at Midland Antique Market the other day, but it was 60.00 and frankly, not noisy enough for the price.

4. When our Japanese Irises bloom. Irises are usually associated with spring, but these bloom later. They take forever, but they are always worth the wait.

5. Fourth of July in our neighborhood. I like to put the stars and stripes up on our house. Our neighbors John and Marcia always invite us across the street to eat and watch the fireworks that go off over downtown. Their entire family comes, too and they cook ALL day--ribs, corn, collard greens (the right way), cornbread. We can barely walk back home. This year though I think we are going out to Symphony on the Prairie with Duane, Todd, the kids and Todd's folks. Maybe another tradition in the making? Thankfully, John and Marcia always invites us back over on July 5th for leftovers!

6. Homemade Orange Crush Ice Cream--nothing natural about it, but boy is it good.

7. All the watermelon I can eat. I buy ours at Johnny's market. They're huge and good there. John doesn't eat it, which makes me happy because I can almost eat a whole one by myself in one sitting. There are two people I know who love Watermelon as much as I do--my friend Rosie and my friend Carol. They get the same "junkie" look in their eyes when they talk about them.

8. All the peaches I can eat. Indiana has great peaches.

9. Tomatoes--Indiana's tomatoes rock! And people here grow a bazillion kinds. It almost makes up for the lack of okra (it doesn't get hot enough to grow well here).

10. Lightening bugs, Cicadas, and Bobwhites (is that really what those birds are called?) I know, that's three things, but I never really think of one without the others.

We Do Too.--Opening Reception

2006-06-09T12:43:00.000-07:00

Gallery tables
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Last night was the big one. The exhibition finally opened. We had a really nice turnout--we think about 200 people. I was happy with how things went. It was a very fun and enthusiastic crowd. And the art looked great. My friend William who did the lighting with the help of John's electical work (no kidding, we pretty much built this gallery from scratch), took more pictures. I was busy talking. I hope he'll send me some so I can post them.

You can sort of see how things looked here. Ken is reading the "marriage past and present" panels that Evelyn and Rosie helped me write and edit. The writing is really good, but I was surprised by how many people stopped to read every one-you can see they are pretty long (a museum gallery no-no). We'll eventually have a few chairs around so you can sit and read, but we needed the floor space last night. You can read them if you want at the exhibition website: wedotoo.org, which my friends Lara, Kris and Scott built. They are amazing.

Dave and Ken and Dave and Ken
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

My friends Dave (a Growing Sense commenter) and Ken agreed to be photographed for the exhibition. Don't they look cute sitting on that ledge? Notice Dave's fur-lined sandals--very Tibetan summer. Dan Evans', the artist, goal for their photograph was to create images of long term couples (Dave and Ken have been together for 18 years) in a way that the viewer could layer their own questions and thoughts about same-sex marriage on to the image.

Flower wedding cake
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

This is one the the flower cakes Coby Palmer made for the opening. He made two and two large arrangements, too. In the interest of being inclusive, one of the cakes had a man and woman on it. It was really cute, too. Coby did the flowers for our commitment ceremony so it meant a lot to have him be a part of the exhibition.

I have to thank the other people who helped launch this thing, too. John's mom and the frame staff at Renditions framed all of the works. Linda also donated table cloths and helped me figure out the text panel stands (the little pyramids you see in the first picture). She also helped keep me from buggin' out towards the end.

My friend Tracie, my own little (non-convicted) Martha Stewart for our ceremony, also helped me pull strings to get this exhibition looking good--She and her husband Henry hung bolts of tulle from that basement ceiling and fabric along the walls. And she did all of the work with caterers and those endless runs to Target!

William rigged up what has to be the only efficient art hanging system for a gallery with rock walls and no ceiling.

Amy did all of the graphic design for the mailers and e-postcard.

And the artists, Mark A. Lee and Daniel Evan's work made the show what it is--compelling, informative, and human.

Finally, I have to thank John, who really did wire the entire basement space with electricity as well as came to the gallery night after night to help even though he needed to be at home preparing for work the next day. My tendency under stress is to become pretty insecure, but John just stayed right by my side, held my hand and never complained. I'm a blessed man all the way around.

I'm also still a little catatonic so pardon the rambling. I'm looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.

6-6-6: Federal Marriage Amendment Tuesday

2006-06-06T04:44:00.000-07:00

Today is 6/6/06, the day Bill Frist and his cronies, including a confused George W. Bush go down in history for attempting to write discrimination into the United States Constitution a second time (the first was back in 2004).

If you are from Arkansas, you have this Will Counts photo emblazened on your psyche.

The picture is of Elizabeth Eckford entering Little Rock's Central High as one of the first non-segregated black students. The woman yelling at her is Hazel Massery.

From a later story in Arkansas Online Magazine:

Hazel Massery drove Elizabeth Eckford home from Central High School in Little Rock on Sunday afternoon. It was no big deal, because the two women have become good friends since September 1997 -- as unlikely as that might seem four decades after their teen-age faces were frozen in a famous photograph epitomizing racial hatred...

"It was the farthest thing from my mind that the photo shoot I set up would lead to a lasting friendship between Elizabeth and Hazel," Counts said Sunday. "I'd had a very difficult time persuading Elizabeth to even be photographed."

Massery, who lives in a rural area of east Pulaski County, said the relationship "wasn't something I ever expected to develop the way it has. I had called Elizabeth in 1962 and apologized for my hateful action. But that was the only contact we'd had until Will got us together."

The two women met for lunch in October 1997 and have seen each other regularly since then. They enrolled jointly in a 12-week course on race relations and have maintained contact with others who took part in that workshop.

"Both of us being mothers, it turned out we have a lot to talk about..."

This story matters because the same outdated interpretations of the Bible and people's same frustrated need to protect a "traditional" yet exclusionary way of life will reveal themselves again as families like mine seek a seat at America's common table. We have already seen the bitter faces of 21st century versions of the 1957 Hazel Massery and worse.

But, as the pastor from my young days used to say, "It's dark. The lightening flashes and the ground opens up. It may be Friday, but Sunday is on the way!" There is much power in the resurrection--both in its glorious outcome as well as it hopeful inevitability.

I've sat in meetings where some black pastors were furious that I see any connection to the hurtful events of the 50s and our struggle today. The irony is not lost on me, but I try not to judge. As humans we fight from our unique place of human experience. They can't know mine anymore than I can know their's. My experience just allows me to better see the overlap. In the future, people will come to see, as the late Coretta Scott King did, "gay people have families and their families need protection, too." My prayer is that one day these same pastors and I will have lunch together like Elizabeth and Hazel. That will be a resurrection day.

Poppies

2006-06-05T08:45:00.000-07:00

Poppy Field
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

We Do Too. opens on Thursday, so my blog posts this week will likely be pretty shallow. I'm trying not to freak even though a lot has to get done before the opening. Fortunately I have the best people in the business working with me, including John who did all of the electrical wiring for the gallery. What a gift he is.

As a way of de-stressing I stopped by this field of poppies the other day, which is in a neighborhood near our house. They bloom this way every year, and I'm always amazed by them. The neighborhood where they are is kind of rough, but the poppies remind me that there is beauty, joy and thoughtfulness there. We should never let ourselves be fooled into thinking otherwise.

Happy Campers

2006-06-04T06:09:00.000-07:00

Mari, Daniel, and John
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

John and I met up with Duane and Todd, and their kids Mari and Daniel at McCormick's Creek State Park. They are there camping all week. John and I spent Friday night with them and got the royal treatment. We had our own HUGE tent with a big blow-up mattress. Duane and Todd cooked for us. And Daniel and Mari entertained us.

Daniel and Mari are big into stories, telling and hearing them. Nothing made them happier than sitting around the campfire listening to a bunch of adults talk about stories from their childhoods (I promise they asked for it, we didn't hold them hostage). Trixie the Snake Dog stories were the ones I had the most success with. Trixie was a small Rat Terrier my grandparents had. She kept snakes on their property shivering with fear. Almost every story ends with Trixie shaking a big snake back and forth between her teeth until its head pops off. You can see why she was so popular.

Daniel who was generous with his candy the entire time handed me a Jolly Rancher sucker before we left and said "For coming."

Rosie's Birthday Weekend

2006-05-30T07:33:00.000-07:00

Just got back from visiting my friend Rosie in Philadelphia. (Rosie is a frequent commenter here typically on my more political posts.) It was her 40th birthday. Rosie has been to Indy three times since she moved from there to PA to get her PhD at Temple. I hadn’t visited her once, so her big day was a good reason to go.

While there we drove over to the Brandywine River Valley to Winterthur (just over the border in Delaware) to see the American furniture collections and gardens (if you like either at all you owe yourself a visit).

I took a picture of Rosie in the Enchanted Garden’s bird nest.

Rosie in the nest
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Some of you will remember me taking John’s picture in the same spot last year (actually it turned out to be the same day last year!). Theoretically Rosie and John are both acting as if they were baby birds waiting for their mom to feed them a worm. I took three shots of Rosie doing this and this was the best one. I kept telling her “tilt your head back like your mom is bringing you a worm,” but all she could manage was this expression of shocked horror, more like a human in the nest of a gigantic monster bird that has just returned. I don’t know for a fact that Rosie has ever actually seen a baby bird being fed. Looking at this picture I have my doubts. I know she isn’t really into “nature.” She mentioned this more than once on our trip. While Rosie didn’t make a very convincing baby bird, I feel comfortable saying that the photo is probably an apt description of her feelings towards nature.

These are Mountain Laurel blossoms.

Mountain Laurel
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

The leaves look kind of like those of Rhododendron, but the blooms look almost like folk art flowers sewn from felt. The blossoms about to open look like tiny Chinese party lanterns.

One of the reasons Rosie wanted to visit the Brandywine Valley is this Mexican ice cream shop in nearby Kennett Square.

Ice Cream
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Rosie loves ice cream more than anyone I know (only the good stuff), and this place serves flavors you won’t find anywhere else. She had roasted corn ice cream. I had pine nut. I know, it sounds bizarre, but think pistachio or butter pecan. We were both happy.

Rosie had two parties, one Friday at Bistro 7 and one at her apartment on Saturday night. The food at Bistro 7 was pretty amazing. I wanted to take a picture of my appetizer, a colorful red and gold beet terrine with watercress, chevre, a strawberry puree and another spicy sauce I couldn’t decode, but I forgot my camera. Saturday night we had chocolate cake, maple ice cream and champagne cocktails with Rosie’s friends Kirsten, Evelyn, and Evelyn’s friend Zach.

Rosie's party
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

We spent Sunday touring University of Pennsylvania (the U.S.’s first university) and then cooling off in the galleries at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. At the PMA we were surprised to run into my friend Ellen from Dallas and her wonderful mother. The museum is huge and always crowded. I can’t imagine what the odds are that we would meet up. We hopped a cab back to Rosie’s place with just enough time before my flight to enjoy some Asiago Fresca cheese (and two other cheeses the names of which I can’t remember), a great bread, and fig preserves which we had picked up on Friday afternoon at some of Rosie’s favorite haunts. Rosie walks around with a number of economic systems running simultaneously through her head, including a nutrition economy (which is why she doesn't look 40). She insists we walked off every bit of food we ate during the weekend. I'm not one to doubt her, but that was some awfully creamy cheese.

Holy Cross Neighborhood Tree Planting

2006-05-24T17:46:00.000-07:00

Our neighborhood, Holy Cross, received a tree grant from Keep Indianapolis Beautiful. About 50 of our neighbors planted 71 trees this past weekend. We are so proud of our new arrivals. Holy Cross is a good old neighborhood that has fought its way back from hard times. And the trees make it even more beautiful.

This is Mindy's new Winterking Hawthorn. She actually got two!

Mindy's Winterking Hawthorn
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Susan was part of Team Sturm Street. She got a Bur Oak like ours. We planted 12 trees on Sturm alone.

Part of Team Sturm
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Planting is just the beginning. Each tree has to get 15 gallons of water each week. This is the water crew. Note the big tank in the back of the truck.

Water Patrol
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

All totaled it took us about 6 hours to plant all of the trees. Then we had a big barbecue to celebrate. It was a good day.

Conor-On Making the Outside Match the Inside

2006-05-23T11:14:00.000-07:00

Conor who last posted as guest blogger a few days ago is a friend of ours. He is a junior in high school and Dave, John, and I have been joking with him for a year about how we were going to "help" him get ready for his prom. Well, believe it or not, he actually let us! So here is Conor before:

Conor before
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

John took him to Origins to teach him how to take care of his face. Dave and I helped him pick out and get fitted for his tux (the tie is Dave's). We also taught him how to walk in it and took him out to eat to go over table manners. Another friend (also named Dave) gave him a killer haircut. I took him to get a manicure and pedicure (the pedicure was just for fun. I don't think he took his shoes off during the prom, but I think everybody should have at least one pedicure in their life. He seemed to enjoy it). Don, who is a florist took care of his date's coursage.

And here was the result:

Conor and Abby
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

It is a good thing we did the work, because Abby, his girfriend, is beautiful. She and her mom made her dress, which is perfectly simple and elegant. Conor asked his parents to drop a small box of Abby's favorite chocolates by her house so it would be waiting for her when she got home. I told him that this would automatically put him into the Boyfriend Hall of Fame.

You have to admit, the man knows how to work a tux! We are mighty proud of Conor, though we can only take so much credit. He already had the goods when it came to the important things--character, honesty, compassion, intelligence. Now, he knows how to make the outside match the inside.

Guest Blogger Conor on Gay Parents Adopting

2006-05-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

Conor, our pastor's son, is a good friend of ours. He is 17. One day not too long ago I was driving him to get fitted for his prom tux (his prom is tonight--more on that in a later). As we drove he asked me about a recent court ruling he'd heard about here in IN where a judge allowed two women to adopt a child together. I asked him why he was interested in this, and he said he was writing a persuasive paper on inclusive adoption. I asked him if he would be a guest blogger at GrowingSense and let me post his paper. He said yes, so here it is:
_________

Should adoption be legal for all people? All kinds of people should have the opportunity to share in the joys of parenthood. Maybe it is a single parent who cannot find a spouse but still wants to have a child, or maybe a gay couple that wants to become parents. We can easily give that opportunity to these people.

Single parents, as they should, legally have the chance to adopt children if they want. They often make the same amount of money as a family where one parent does not work. If a person chooses not to marry should they not get the chance to be a parent like people who do marry? We should give them the chance to adopt because some single parents can be just as fit to be parents as some couples and it would not be right not to let them adopt. Approximately 25 percent of the adoptions of children with special needs are by single men and women (National Adoption Information Clearinghouse). They give children with special needs whose parents could not take care of them another chance at a good family. It may be difficult sometimes for single parents to raise children, but when they really love the kids it becomes a lot easier for them to manage.

Some people may say that gay people will raise gay children and so they should not be allowed to adopt. If we follow the logic that gay people raise gay children though, should not children of straight people be straight? If straight parents create straight children, then there would be no gay people. Since gay people exist and their parents are straight, we must admit that a parent’s sexuality has no effect on the sexual development of their children. Research studying lesbian and gay parents and their children explored things like the children’s wellbeing and development in many different areas. They also studied the quality of the parenting and the gender and sexual development of the children. These studies found that the sexual orientation of the parents does not affect the psychological wellbeing of children, and they also found that the sexual orientation of the parents has no effect on the child’s sexual development (Cooper and Cates 27-29*).

Even the Department of Children and Families recognizes that gays and lesbians can make fine guardians for children and routinely place foster children in homes of gay people. There is little to no difference between a child who has been raised in a traditional family and one who has been raised in a family with same-sex parents. There is no study you can find to show that children raised by same-sex couples turn out differently than they would have in a traditional family. Gay couples also adopt many more children than other groups because many cannot have biological children of their own and they give children opportunities with a real family that they would not have otherwise. Restricting gay and lesbian adoption can be harmful to children (Cooper and Cates 74).

Some people may say that gay people would not be good parents, but you cannot generalize like that just as you cannot say that single parents cannot be good parents. There are some gay people, who would not make good parents, but there are also straight people who are not good parents, and there are also single people who would not make good parents. When deciding who is fit to be a parent you have to take it on a case by case basis and you cannot generalize a group of people to say that they would not make good parents. Non-traditional families are just like any other family. They will love the children unconditionally and will care for them like any traditional parents would. If non-traditional parents are dedicated enough to do all of the extra work it takes to be a single parent or a gay couple and the work it takes to adopt a child then they likely will love the child like nobody else would.

The American Medical Association will support legislative and other efforts to allow adoption of a child by same-sex parents. The American Psychiatric Association says that sexual orientation should not be used as the sole or primary factor in child’s custody determinations. With the support of all of these medical and psychiatric associations how could we deny that same-sex parenthood is a good idea? These associations know what they are doing when they support something and to support something like same-sex adoption they must really find a lot of value in it.

Should adoption be legal for all people? Of course it should be legal. Research and every major professional group agrees that there are no reasons not to allow the groups of people discussed above to adopt children, so it should definitely be legal. These potential parents also will give children a good home and a loving environment to grow up in instead of letting them move from foster home to foster home. Adoption should be legal for all people.

(*Leslie Cooper and Paul Cates. Too High a Price: The Case Against Restricting Gay Parenting (2nd edition))

LR Girl Danielle Closes the Gap on America's Next Top Model

2006-05-18T06:15:00.001-07:00

Went over to Dave's last night to watch Arkansas homegirl Danielle catwalk it all the way home on America's Next Top Model. Any commitment to reality television I have I owe to Dave. Danielle is on the right in this picture.

Yeah, she has a country-soul accent (so!). She also takes great photos, walks like she was born in Milan, and has a Marine-like devotion to overcoming obstacles.

The show paid to have the gap between Danielle's two front teeth closed. She had to recover pretty much on camera. I like that she felt kind of sad to loose her gap. Proved to me she had a real sense of herself. How many people in the fashion industry would be sad to say goodbye to one of their physical "imperfections?"

Along the way Danielle did a photo shoot on top of an elephant in the jungle while suffering from food poisoning and dehydration. Not one complaint to the people she was working with and she made the shot work!

She listend to judges advice without making any excuses (Jade!). And every piece of it she got, she used without feeling judged or diminished. She saw modeling as her profession. She knew she had the tools to be good, and was committed to using all of them.

Danielle said she would pay for professional voice coaching to help with her accent, though I hope it doesn't go completely away since it is a part of who she is. She also seemed happy that her career would help her take care of her mom who is really sick. How many 20 years olds do you know who think that way?

I learned a lot from Danielle. At the beginning of the season one of the contestants was a racist, homophobic bigot from Texas. The girls were headed somewhere in a limo and the bigot started mouthing off about how surprised she was that there were so many black people around. Danielle was sitting next to her. I think Danielle's response was something like, "What's your point?" But later off camera Danielle said, "I am not gonna let this girl turn me into the angry black woman", and she didn't. The bigot was cut during episode one. What I learned was that when you face discrmination you can let it rule you, or you can keep your focus on what is important and move on. I need to remember that.

Danielle puts the "real" in the Real South. I really liked her honesty and humility. Dave and I agreed that Jade was just fooling herself (if that) with her "I'm the great undiscovered supermodel" business. Danielle and Joanie deserve an extra contract just for having to live with the woman for that long. Joanie, the runner-up will be as famous as Danielle if she ever gets used to her new "worked on" smile. I want her to succeed, too. She and Danielle would work well together.

Georgia Anti-gay Marriage Amendment Overturned

2006-05-17T04:57:00.000-07:00

Long story short:

In 2005 Georgia citizens voted to amend their constitution to limit marriage to one man and one woman and ALSO to deny any of the "benefits of marriage" to same-sex couples. (Only the first part of the amendment showed up on the ballot.)

A superior court judge Constance Russell ruled that the amendment violated the "single subject rule" that limits amendments to addressing one subject. In the judge's opinion, defining marriage is one thing, denying any legal protections for another group of people is another.

Get ready to hear the right's whiny cries about "activist judges" which for some reason only appear when a court has made a ruling they disagree with.

From the Washington Blade via Pageoneq.com:

“Procedural safeguards such as the single subject rule rarely enjoy popular support. But, ultimately, it is those safeguards that preserve our liberties, because they ensure that the actions of government are constrained by the rule of law,” Russell wrote.

“The issues for the people with respect (to) same sex relationships are what status, if any, those relationships will have in the eyes of the law. And if they are afforded legal recognition, how they shall be treated under other laws. Those questions are distinctly different from whether same sex marriages should be allowed or recognized in this state. If the larger questions about same sex relationships are to be considered and answered, they must be presented forthrightly — not as an incidental side note to an entirely different matter,” Russell adds.

The first sentence of Amendment 1 asked Georgia voters if marriage should be defined as the union between man and woman in the state constitution. The second clause of Amendment 1, which is known as Section B and did not appear on the Nov. 2 ballot, said “no union” between persons of the same sex shall be entitled to “the benefits of marriage.”

What does the ruling mean? It allows the good people of Georgia, even if they believe only a man and a woman should be married, to say at a later time that these other kinds of families should not be discriminated against in terms of legal protections.

It is possible that some Georgians feel individuals should be able to leave their pensions to the partner they've committed their life to. Or they may believe Georgia should allow someone to receive automatic rights to visit their partner in the hospital or their partner's inheritence without distant relatives denying their ability to do so.

I believe some people are nice that way.

Vows

2006-05-16T12:06:00.000-07:00

As part of We Do Too: Life, Love, and Unions I've asked gay couples who have taken vows to send them to me so I can share them with visitors to the exhibition. I decided to include vows when I was asking some of my straight friends what they would want to see in an exhibition on this topic. Vows kept popping up. They didn't think gay couples took them. Below are vows that were sent to me yesterday by two guys I don't even know--Rob and Tyler. I was so touched by their pledges to one another I wanted to share them. Their ring vows are based on Song of Songs 8:6-7.

RING VOWS:
Set me as a seal upon your heart,
as a seal upon your hand.
For our love is as strong as death,
our passion fierce as the grave.
Its flashes are flashes of fire,
a raging flame.
Much water cannot quench our love,
neither can floods drown it.
If I were offered a nation's wealth in exchange for your love,
I would utterly scorn it.

ROB'S VOWS:

Tyler,

I'll never forget that first night - sitting across the table from you - not able to keep my eyes off your beautiful eyes and smile. I stared at you and repeated the same mantra, "I'm not going to get involved with anyone." But you had different plans.

That's why, a month later when I finally admitted we were dating, I was dating a friend.

So, today, I promise you, as my spouse, my partner, and my friend, all my love; I promise to be with you, to hold your hand and smile every time you write a beautiful poem; to walk side by side on every doggy date, keeping you safe; to hold you close to me as we sing our songs to God; to cry with you when we have our daily struggles; I promise to you my support and
commitment as we become a family; and I promise all of my heart, all of my body, and all my love forever;

I love you.

TYLER'S VOWS:

Rob, God brought us together. And, I don't know how it's happened, but when you're with me, I feel like more than twice a man; and when we're apart, I am only half.

So, Rob, today I offer you my heart, promising my unconditional love, always.

I offer you my body, promising my faithfulness to you alone.

And, I offer you my mind, promising my present help in all you do.

Let nothing but death separate me from you, my one with which I am one.

They have a website of their ceremony which is equally sweet. Click here to pay them a visit.

40 Shades of Gray

2006-05-16T05:04:00.000-07:00

I think blog entries about weather are kind of boring, but I have to comment on the blah mess we've been having here in Indy for over a week. It rains every day and pretty much all day off and on. The cloud bank seems to hover at about 50 feet, and the highs have been in the 40s and low 50s! Because it is so completely soggy everywhere, the chill goes to goes to the bone.

Everybody is pretty lethargic and/or cranky, especially Indy 500 fans since this is race month and track activities just haven't happened.

Plants seem to love it though. The 15 rose bushes I planted a few weeks ago really need the water. Hopefully we'll have some sun soon.

Ambrose and Ian--Celebrating 54 Years Together

2006-05-12T06:04:00.000-07:00

Ambrose and Ian
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

From Bloomberg via PageoneQ

Pope Condemns Same-Sex Marriages, Describes Gay Love as `Weak'

May 11 (Bloomberg) -- Pope Benedict XVI denounced gay and civil unions, saying marriage between people of the same sex is ``weak.''

``Only the foundation of complete and irrevocable love between man and woman is capable of forming the basis of a society that becomes the home of all men,'' Benedict told a convention of the John Paul II Pontifical Institute today. The pope said ``confusing marriage with other types of weak love'' should be avoided.

"Weak love," is that what they're calling love that manages to stay together for 50+ years despite the absence of legal, societal and often family support these days?

Ambrose and Ian live in Indianapolis. They are part of the upcoming photography exhibition I'm putting together. I'd like to see Pope "I've never been married, but I know everything about it" Benedict XVI make his statement to their face.

Jennie's Big Day and Batesville Folks

2006-05-11T18:32:00.000-07:00

Jennie and J take off
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Here are some pictures from Jennie and J's wedding. Stacey and Dave kindly offered to let me steal some of theirs since I was sans camera. This is Jennie and J. taking off after the reception looking like they've been hired for an Estee Lauder perfume commercial. I told Jennnie how pretty her wedding portrait was (they had it at the church). She said, "Even with the glasses? They told me I could take them off, but they're me." I agree. And good for you that you weren't trying to be someone you are not on one of the most important days of your life. I think they're perfect--they scream glamorous accountant.

Jennie, Charley and Zach
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

This is Jennie with her nephews Charley and Zach, Chuck (Jennie's brother) and Stacy's kids. I love everything about this picture, especially Charley's Popeye wink. Very cute. They were ring bearers in the wedding. My opinion about young children in weddings is: If you have kids in your wedding, don't expect them to actually accomplish the tasks they are given. Just send 'em on down the aisle and enjoy the show. Charley and Zach, however, took just enough time off from their job as rowdy boys to march right down and deliver those rings to the people who needed them. Always there at crunch time, just like their dad. Impressive. It is strange for me to think that Chuck was about Charley's age, maybe a little older, when we became friends.

Here are some of the Batesville "kids" I'm always writing about. Actually we are all between the ages of 29 and 40, but we still enjoy a suspended adolescence.

Batesville Friends
Originally uploaded by Troy Smythe.

Back row, left to right: Dave McClain, Julie McClain, Chuck McClain (brothers and sisters of the bride), Georgette Sims, Felley Nall-Lawson, and Ashley Nall-Stuckey; Middle row: Sherry Sproles and Jennifer Redmond; Front row: Robert Sproles, me, Mandy Jones-Pascoe (Adam's sister), and Lori McClain (sister of the bride)

When I look at this picture about all I see is a big bunch of love. The growing up and college years we spent together set our friendship bars pretty high. I'm never around these people without being reminded that I'm cared for no matter what. We have been known to be a little clannish when the situation calls for it. Not one of our lives has always been easy. And while we are pretty self-sufficient in a jam, we know where to go when things get too tough. When we do see each other, the fun, at least for us, does not stop. As crazy as I am about the Ozarks, it is my family and these people that will always be my true home.

I wish Jennie could have been in the picture. I think she'll be sad she wasn't, but when I saw her running out of the church in a cloud of bubbles she seemed very happy.

Wednesday Weigh Down and Jennie's Wedding

2006-05-10T08:29:00.000-07:00

Mom was down a pound. Dad was up a 1/2 a pound. And while I think Don't Ask Don't Tell is a horrible policy for the military, it is exactly the one my sister and I want for our role in this contest. At this point I'm begging either mom or dad to just reach their goal already so I don't have to post on this subject every week. I knew doing the online thing was a failure curse. But I can tell you that mom and dad look great and seem to be pretty active.

I was home this weekend for Jennie's (Trimandfashionable) wedding. We had a great time, and of course with our family and friends that means the food was good. I hope to post pictures from the wedding when Jenny sends me some. Julie, Jennie's sister (aka Gunstream Girl) was supposed to be taking pictures with her mom's camera, but she really needed to be doing Maid of Honor stuff so I took over for her. All of this means I took pictures of things I hope to post on my blog later because I forgot my camera.

The wedding was very pretty, flowers and Jennie were beautiful. And Jennie who is very organized had the service down to about 20 minutes. But poor thing, she told me her makeup artist didn't show up! This after they had done two "trial runs" earlier. And to make matters worse, when Jenny opened her shoe box the morning or her wedding, there were no shoes there! But you would never know any of that was happening if she didn't tell you. It all looked good from where I sat.

Mary "Silent but Deadly" Cheney

2006-05-04T20:30:00.000-07:00

Watched Diane Sawyer’s interview with Mary Cheney last night, the first time she’s spoken publicly about herself as a gay person.

Mary felt it was important to note that she hasn’t been muzzled all this time, just silent until it was her turn. Her turn?! If being the daughter of the second most powerful man in the free world doesn’t qualify as “your turn” what on God’s green (for the next 50 years or so) earth does? Is she waiting until she’s president?

I can’t decide if Mary Cheney’s silence (she didn’t even really say much during the interview) is enormously selfish, spineless or self-loathing. Let’s see which I can make the strongest case for?

I’ll start with self-loathing. Remember when Mary said she mouthed silent obscene insults (can’t even say those out loud) at John Kerry for mentioning the vice-president’s gay daughter during the 2005 debates? Why did that make her and her family so angry? (Thanks Diane Sawyer for letting THAT question pass by.) If Mary truly believed being gay is just the way she is, Kerry’s mention of the fact that she is gay would be like Cheney mentioning Kerry’s daughters were female or brunette. It is simply a trait of some humans. I suppose she could be trying to cover the real source of her anger-- that her own father supported an administration that worked to FURTHER limit her freedoms! Choosing not to confront her father on this issue also would make her, in my mind, self-loathing.

Or is she just spineless? When Sawyer asked if Mary ever talked to the president about his attempts to further limit gay people from being able to protect their families, all she could say was that she wasn’t sure that was the most effective way to get her message across. Got to give her that. What could possibly be more effective than saying absolutely nothing?

Sawyer asks “What would your dad say if you asked him to change “don’t ask don’t tell”?” Mary’s response? “I would never ask him to do that.” Why the heck not? Good Lord! She’s an American citizen and his daughter. Even if she knew he would say “no,” isn’t there value in forcing someone who holds a bigoted position to actually hear themselves say it out loud? Sometimes that is enough to help them change their mind.

In response to Sawyer’s question about whether or not one can be too respectful, Mary asked, “Can you be too respectful of the leader of the free world?” To which John dryly said to the television, “When he’s making the free world less free, yes!”

Whatever else she might be I think I can safely say that Mary Cheney is selfish. When asked about her perspective on Bush’s call to ban gay marriage, Mary said that in her view she and her partner are already married. They’re just waiting for state and federal law to catch up. Well, that’s fine, Mary. You just go ahead and wait. Even though you have resources and a level of access most people can only dream of, don’t put yourself out. Even though people still die alone in ICU units because their partners are denied access, even though a foster child is ripped away from the gay couple that has been their parents for 15 years, even though committed gay couples are denied over 1000 tax-related benefits enjoyed by legally married folks, don’t bother getting up. You have yours. That’s all that matters.

Let's contrast Mary "I've got mine" Cheney with a real patriot, Laurel Hester, the New Jersey police officer who spent her last lung cancer-strained dying breaths pleading with Ocean County authorities to allow her partner to receive her pension benefits just as other spouses do. Hester's last appearance (of several--she was dying of cancer the entire time) was via video because she was too sick to move. But, you're right Mary. There's absolutely no reason why cancer-riddled souls shouldn't spend their last days doing the work for you.

What a waste. As far as I’m concerned, Mary Cheney sounded better when she said nothing.

On What a 21st Century Poseidon Means

2006-05-04T06:54:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me know I attribute some directors with prophetic gifts or at least a unique ability to predict market forces that are somehow related to an intangible spirit of the times.

Titanic movies, and there are so many versions, have come to represent, for me at least, our human tendency to put way too much stock in our own achievements at the expense of humility, reason, and compassion. If one looks at the go-go 90s and the then prevailing sense of being able to do the impossible using any means possible, it isn’t hard to see why James Cameron’s 1997 film of the tragedy resonated with so many. The bubble about to burst may have become visible to just enough people.

Silly Troy. Everyone knows the special effects and Leo and Kate were the big draw. Be honest, special effect do not a best movie make. And was the romantic relationship really that compelling?

You may say I need to look beyond the script to the archetypal American myth that Jack was—the hard-scrabble, humble American-to-be, up-from-your-bootstraps go-getter (7 hyphens!). Yes, and he dies. And am I blinded by cynicism or did he actually sacrifice his life so the rich, aristocrat could live? Either way, Cameron gave us a nice blockbuster preview of the current mess I see us in today.

Flash forward nine years to the upcoming release of Wolfgang Peterson’s Poseidon. Itself a remake of 1972’s tragi-campy Poseidon Adventure starring the recently deceased countess of camp herself, Shelly Winters.

In the movie, an ocean liner meets an outsized tsunami (no stretch to see a connection to current events here) and pays the price. Winters plays, of all things, a former competitive swimmer in the movie (“You see Mr. Scott, in the water I’m a very skinny lady.”) Fun fact: When I was in LA for a conference I stayed at the hotel whose lobby stood in for the Poseidon’s ballroom. I nearly wet my pants when I realized it.

So what, right? So what indeed. The original Poseidon Adventure was part of a long-lived string of disaster movies (The Towering Inferno, the Airport series, The Swarm) that I think reflected a real or imagined sense of impending doom our country faced back in the 1970s. Were they a way for us to confront the large, faceless fears that seemed to plague us and our economy? Do we feel that way again now?

OR, is the net result more hopeful? After all, the academy award-winning theme song from the original Poseidon Adventure was “There’s Got to be a Morning After.”

Zeitgeist Badge and We Do Too

2006-05-03T12:05:00.000-07:00

Did you notice that little moving picture thingy over on the right side of my blog page? It is my Daily Zeitgeist badge. Flickr who hosts my online photos has a feature that will display all of them in a continuous stream called Zeitgeist. If you click on a picture, Flickr will bring it up on the web. I'm experimenting with using it as a way of displaying photos from a photography exhibition I'm curating. The exhibition is called We Do Too: Unions of Life and Love and will open here in Indy on June 8, 2006 at LAMP Fine Arts Gallery. It will have an online companion exhibition. I'll keep you posted on when it goes live.

Wednesday Weigh Down-The Jim and Katy Show Continues

2006-05-03T11:51:00.000-07:00

Midweek is here and Dad lost 4 pounds and Mom lost 2, this after a weekend in Branson, MO where low-fat food is about as common as a Rhode Island tornado. I'll see them this weekend at our friend Jennie's wedding and I can't wait. I'm celebrating by eating the most wonderful linzer cookie while drinking my new favorite summer drink--iced melon white tea at Tea's Me. Dave will be irritated if I don't give him props for mentioning that he turned me on to Tea's Me. I work here a lot (free wireless) and Wayne and his wife Stacie are super fine people. Plus the tea is amazing. You'd think tea could only get so good, but, well, come on up to Indy and I'll take you there.

A message to mom and dad, people who read my blog, but don't comment have asked me to tell you that they are so proud of you and to keep up the good work.