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Friday, January 31, 2014


I haven't posted in forever, because I am not quite sure what I want to post about. Some stuff has happened, some big, most of it small, but I haven't really felt like sharing. Wait, let me back up. I have felt like sharing, but I have lost a bit of courage in sharing something in particular, because it involves a serious topic, one that is frequently the center of vicious, passionate debate, mostly by people who aren't even involved in the issue at hand.

Oh, hell. Let's talk. It's a Friday, I got paid, and tonight I'm having pizza and red wine for dinner. All in all, a pretty good day, so whatever, right? Let's do this.

What I'm talking about is same sex marriage and the reason that I hesitated to mention it on here is because it isn't my story to tell, not really, just like it's really not anyone's business what grown ups do in their bedrooms or at the court house or at the altar. I guess you can tell where I stand on this issue, and let me tell you, my rainbow flag flies high and proud.

It's the story of my godfathers, Bob and Jeff, and my family and I were lucky enough and honored and blessed to attend their wedding. It was a beautiful wedding, on the rooftop of an old hotel under a breezy San Diego sky before sunset. And that sunset struck me, in a bittersweet way, because Bob and Jeff are in their seventies. They had to wait this long, close to the sunset of life, to get to marry one another. That makes me want to cry.

I am, however, immensely proud that my daughter was a flower girl, the only one that walked down the aisle aside from my godfathers. I'm so proud she was part of, in my opinion, a little sliver of history, part of this union that took 45 years before it could come to fruition. Bob and Jeff, hands clasped, vows on their lips, friends and family behind them. Two partners standing in dappled sunlight that shone on the silver of their hair, the silver that should not have been there on their wedding day. Theirs should have been dark heads of hair above strong, youthful shoulders that had yet to carry the weight of the world upon them. They should have been married nearly half a century ago, but for some ridiculous reason it has been denied them until now.

I don't care how you feel about gay marriage. Get your own blog if you want to complain about it. I just wanted to put my thoughts out there, share my happiness that they were finally wed after so many decades, my sorrow that it took that many decades, and pride that I was there, that I saw it, that my kid danced to disco with family and friends, and with a bunch of amazing gay men who dressed much better than I and I don't care how stereotypical that sounds, because I did NOT match a rhinestone brooch to my burgundy suit jacket.

So, 16,425 toasts to you, Bob and Jeff, one for every day of your 45 years together.

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