One of these days, seriously, I will get around to discuss some down-ticket races. For now, I want to write about the other race that fills my mind, and my heart, Proposition 8.
Let me tell you a story: June 26, 1983, was my parents' 12th wedding anniversary. I was barely awake that morning when my dad told me to sit on the couch. I had been away at camp the previous week, and was wiped out from the mediocre food, very little sleep and the terrifying tales of the campers that died before me at Camp Dick Runyon. My sister and I say lumpenly on the couch, too sleepy to be curious. I don't remember the exact speech, but my father told us that he was moving out and that he and my mom were splitting up. I remember that they said it wasn't our fault, but they had never fought with one another that I could recall (well there were a couple of instances but nothing ongoing), so it must be our fault.
Later, my father called a good friend who shared their wedding anniversary to tell him the sorry news. I was laying on my parents' bed listening. My father was systematically dismantling a life that they had chosen together.
1983 was a bad year to be a gay man coming out of the closet, but it was also the first year that it was really possible, at least in rural Indiana. In November, my mom moved us back east, and my dad moved to Fort Wayne, where there was a surprisingly supportive gay-ish community. Although I knew my father's boyfriends over the years, I never told anyone that he was gay until I got to high school, and even then only told a couple of friends. By college, it made me a novelty. My father's journey was probably harder before that day in 1983, and my mother's was harder after it.
Now I am happily married. And the one thing that I wish for both of my parents is that they could have had this marriage when they were young. An honest marriage. An in-love marriage. Now that I have children, I have the same hope for them. And I now live in a rare place in history, and in geography, and in the law, where that is possible, no matter who they fall in love with.
I highly doubt that I have readers who support Prop 8, which would write discrimination into the California constitution by banning gay marriage. You probably already knew how I felt about this, and were planning to vote NO on Prop 8. But please take the extra step, and please DONATE to No on Prop 8.
4 comments:
That must have been very difficult and confusing for you. I had no idea. I know this may surprise you, with all my conservative values, but I do strongly oppose a ban on gay marriage. Not for any personal reasons (although I do have many friends and relatives who are homosexual), it just doesn't seem practical to go to the trouble of drafting legislation to ban it. Never mind the time spent discussing it, the money spent Xeroxing the damn bill...I think it's a distraction the conservatives use when other, much more important things hit the fan. But mostly I simply believe that if two people are in a committed relationship, if they pay their taxes, contribute to society, don't break the law, then how exactly is banning gay marriage detrimental to MY life? If someone could demonstrate to me how exactly this is bad for society I might feel differently. But that seem likely...so I wish you luck in your state on this issue!
Right on and well said, Andrea.
XO
Your post made me cry. Not a weeping, big gulping sobs kind of cry. Just a tear or two. But here, sitting in my office, your message had such poignancy. Your wish - your regret really - that your parents could have had a marriage like yours. It is such a humane, gentle and powerful hope. And a measure, really, of the success of your own marriage and the depth of your love for your parents.
Post a Comment