Three Anniversaries and an Exit

Just got back… yes. Again. This one was for our anniversary. Hard to imagine it’s been 12 years since that day Rob and I made those bonds and public promises, but that’s what my intricate calculations come to, see: 2007 – 1995 = 12. Right? ;-)

Let’s see… Here we were (in non-matching, non-pink outfits, I'll have you notice):




About two years from there, we’d be buying our first home, in California, and in about five years more we’d be becoming parents and raising our boys back here in Utah.

In October we’ll have been together 15 years. 15 years. Gosh, I’m approaching the point where I’ll have been with Rob for more time than I’ve not. I’m sure together we already occupy far more real-estate in my memory than I alone could claim, and it can be quite tough now to remember what it was like to be in my shoes when he wasn’t next to them, to the point where I reflexively wonder if he ever wasn’t. I mean, not merely in some cute romantic realm, but, after so much time, it really does become impossible to draw a line between what is you and what isn’t without crossing over into your better half. In the end, you’d not have your form, be who you are, without their form; you’ve literally been made who you are for each other.

And man, those years go by so fast, particularly now, with children, ironically when you want them to slow down the most. Our boys are now five. FIVE! It boggles the mind.

They've gone from here:

(Doesn’t Alan, on the left there, look just a little bit like Montgomery Burns? But in a cute way... It’s the hands, right? "Excellent...") To here:
Somehow, at some point after their birth, weeks began ticking by as days once did. But I can’t put into words how happy I am to be able to look back and see where those years have gone, and what they’ve built. From that view, it’s clear what the time was for, what 15 and 5 amazing years can do, if not too quickly.

I best stop before I start leaking, as I’m apt to do on such a topic.

I’ve got some bad news too ;-).

I see it’s also nearing my blog anniversary, the 21st, but this, again, has become a very busy time in our life. Between work and play lately I just can’t keep up with this blog, and so, after a brief summer’s attempt to return, I’m out of here again. I wish there were more hours in the day, or that I didn’t like sleeping for 8 of them so darn much.

If only blogging meant merely writing a paragraph once a week or so for me, but, as anybody who’s read this blog for a while knows, I’m longwinded. I also easily pick up momentum and create post after post, and, aside from taking me out of town, it’s hard to stop me :-), particularly on topics about which I’m so passionate. Looking back, I’ve already past 200 posts in a year and everybody here knows it’s not just hours spent maintaining your blog. You get caught up in the blogs of others and that’s a whole other draw. I best take advantage of my recent interruptions.

In the end, between work and family (and circadian rhythms), I’m out of time, for now, and, though I enjoy blogging, I can’t think of anything else I’d want to or can rightly cut. I hope those who read my blog understand, because I do feel like a bit of a smuck (for going again … and for having to write another post saying I’m going again… and for the possibility that I’ll just come back again too soon and have to write another one… and for being bigheaded enough to imagine it’s anywhere near a responsibility to blog :-)).

Anyway, here’s to looking forward to more free time, eventually, maybe in the Fall… Winter?

Again, I’ll keep checking my email, for the random and welcome hello, point of clarification, question, angry letter in all caps, or Nigerian offer to make me great sums of money. Don’t count me blog-dead, please; just in another blog-coma.

Looking back at my last vacation I see I left some cliff hangers. Let me clear them up; I’d hate it if, say, Lost left any loose ends ;-).

So:

Yes the sand box was finished in time, and a trampoline was added too. When they get older I’m pretty sure they’ll be jumping from the elevated sandbox down onto the trampoline and then on to breaking their arm, but I survived as a kid, it has a net, and I was outvoted :-). The play fort, though, is going to have to wait for more moderate temperatures.

In a related story, and on an ominous note, we all slept out in our backyard, in a tent, not too long ago and found the next day that the coyotes have come back. Our dog freaked out in the middle of the night and we learned another dog was killed by them just down the street. Since then we’ve had numerous sightings. I guess the one who got our dog did have pups. They best not mess with Ultima, or I’ll have to chase them down with a flashlight again. I’m not above sequels.

No, Rob will not be taking the tainted government cash they give to gay couples for not being married. This is not because we adeptly reasoned some solution to that moral problem, no. It’s because he’ll not be going back to school at all. Though some extra income could be nice, it’s nothing we need and so he decided to remain as a full time stay-at-home parent, even when the kids are in school all day. I’m actually relieved on many fronts. He plans to volunteer at the school and for our favored charitable organization when there isn’t anything to be done at home. Yeah, I know. With kids, when is there nothing to be done at home, even with them in school all day? But he may need outside the home adult interaction and charity is great for the effect and for the fact that they typically let you choose your own hours :-).

And apparently, as I'm told, Brian has mastered the Jedi Mind Trick, but only on his parents and grandparents.

Seems that’s it… Ugg, the length of this post speaks to my reluctance to leave again, but…

Push the orange button; over and out.

In My Defense

It seems a rumor has been going about that I wear pink shirts, and not only that but matching pink shirts with my spouse. I have endured some ribbing on the matter and, granted, on the face of it, it would be a criminally cutesy offence, one I may not forgive myself if I witnessed it out in the wilds of Utah (and I have, at that).

But, let me assure the public that, if this event did occur, there would have been multiple extenuating circumstances that any kindhearted judge of my character should take into consideration:

1. The incident in question was an isolated incident, and one born from the confusion that comes when one’s spouse, mother, and cruise director team up in such a perfect storm. Simply, I was only following orders.

2. Due to the fact that we did not even own a pink shirt, a truth that may speak in my defense, we had to buy the shirts for the cruise. Thus, at the first pink shirts we found, we simply bought two. So what appear to be matching outfits are actually the product of manly shopping efficiency.

3. The pink shirts in question were purchased at Costco. ‘Nuff said.

4. Finally, not long after wearing them for the first time, both Alan’s and my pink shirt were ruined in a finger-painting accident (or maybe “accident”; you can’t prove anything).

Given the above, any just and compassionate human being could see the matching-pink-shirt incident was 100% innocent, and an anomaly of chance that will not happen again. I apologize to anyone who I’ve inadvertently harmed by such a display of grotesque cutesy apparel, and remain hopeful I'll have your vote in 2008.

The Remaining Days…

I want to wrap this travel log up and so I’ll cut through the rest of the trip.

Let’s see... Next we stopped at a private island, a sliver of land owned by Norwegian Cruise Lines. Here we could do all our ghastly anti-family stuff away from prying eyes, like beach volley ball, bbq’n, and snorkeling in the warm Caribbean waters.

Oh and look, here’s a picture I got of Rosie, our leader:

In that picture I think she’s saying something bad about Donald Trump or undermining our troops or something. Call me, Enquirer, if you want to buy the rights to the photo; I'm reasonable.

After the private island, we then headed back to New York. It's kind of sad to head home, but it took a couple days. And even at sea there’s a lot to do, from constant eating ;-) to the comedic entertainment (we had Sandra Bernhard, Judy Gold, Alec Mapa, and Jessica Kirson, hilarious). As one of the gayest things I've ever seen, one night we had the songs from Annie performed by the original Broadway Annie, Andrea McArdle, with Rosie as Miss Hannigan. I'm not saying if I enjoyed any bit of it.

My favorite event, one they always have towards the end of the cruise, is the Teen Panel. Here about 10 teens from gay or lesbian headed families on the ship put together a discussion panel, where they give their point of view on growing up in their family, discuss the ups and the downs, and take questions from all us nervous parents yet to hear our kid’s voice change. They are amazing kids, very congenial, smart, eloquent. Each year this event takes away a good deal of my worry for what’s ahead.

Let’s see… Then one night we all wore pink, it was in our gay cruise contract (it was one of the theme nights). I normally wouldn’t conform but you’d be surprised how having kids can make too cute seem reasonable.

ugg, Rob and I are even matching. :-)

Finally, I think I’ll end with this: a bit from my journal from the end of the trip, somewhat edited for web viewing. It pretty much sums up the week.

Today we are at sea and I was walking the ship as the kids napped. The cruise is almost over and I was just taking it all in again. The spirit on the ship is amazing. As I walked by the hall where all the photos are displayed, I almost began to tear up. So many beautiful children, families, and parents.

There’s the cute young couple I saw at disco night by the pool adeptly dancing, only like a gay man could, with their adorable bouncing toddler. There’s the lesbian mothers of 5 from Memphis. There’s that couple with their beautiful daughter who was the princess to our princes for fairytale night. There’s [Brian’s friend] and his sister with the most adorable smiles. So many beautiful families, wonderful children and parents, and couples. I know the ship is a business and they take these pictures because they want to charge us 20 bucks per print, but who cares? It’s about 25 yards of amazing families, most of whom have fought past some great obstacles, done what they knew was right in their life, and made it. What a beautiful sight.

After I passed that hall, I headed into a crowd of the same great families. There was a pack of middle school-aged friends playing on the elevators, parents with twin infants strapped to their chests, and kids skipping behind their family to dinner. I was overcome there by one of those amazing swells of love, where it just feels like the universe has taken you gently by the hand, or heart. It’s futile to describe such a feeling, I suppose; funny how some of the most capital-R Real feelings are those most difficult to put into words. Regardless, it was beautiful and comforting.

In looking at those families and thinking on all the people we’ve met and thinking on my boys sound asleep with their dad back in our too small room, it hit me so clearly. This is why I shouldn’t worry, why no politician or religious idea will hold up against our families, as long as we’re not taken back out of existence. It’s as plain as day.

The other side will have to come around or hurt the very thing they claim they’re defending. They can say all they want about what they think they know about God’s plan for our lives. They can construct as many elaborate arguments against our so-called non-ideal families as they want. It won’t ultimately stand up to the firm and beautiful fact. These families know why they were created, and why it’s right. Regardless of the hang-ups of others--sex, genetics, race, or disability--the simple truth of what makes a family and orientation is so clear here. And these families will all go home. They will all live their lives and their neighbors will see it and know what I know. If any families are meant to be, then these families are meant to be. If any marriages are deserving respect, equality, and defense, then these marriages are deserving. If any parents are important for their children and for society, then these parents are important too. Now, if only we could get every US citizen a ticket for the next cruise…
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Anyway, that concludes my cruise posts. I’ll leave it with this photo.

It’s Brian sound asleep as we pulled back into New York. That’s the Statue of Liberty in the background. It was a great trip.

Day 5, Bigots, Conch Fritters, and Key Lime Pie

Growing up gay in Utah, I’m no stranger to hostility from strangers. People there have called me names, spread generalizations and lies about my “lifestyle”, threatened my life, and worked hard up on our capital hill to make living in our home state difficult for my family and to be sure we would have fewer rights than they enjoy. I’m also no stranger for such hostility to be done with a frustrating and self-aggrandizing veneer of religious “love,” in the comfortable belief that they are acting on behalf of God. Heck, I’m pretty used to it, maybe so much so that I’ve come to see it as less malevolent than I should.

My point is we woke up in Key West today. We weren’t supposed to. We were supposed to wake up in Bermuda. But we aren’t in Bermuda because a host of churches were planning to meet our families at the port with protest.

We weren’t on the first rfamily cruise, but on that cruise they visited Nassau, in the Bahamas, and were met with this sort of treatment. It was the typical anti-gay protest by the accounts of those who were there: yelling, calling us names, and holding up grammatically questionable signs with insults purportedly from God. All this was done for a bunch of families just wanting to relax and visit their island and maybe buy a coupe t-shirts. I guess about ten times the number of churches that had done so in Nassau had threatened our cruise in Bermuda, and so the owners of rfamily decided to divert us to Key West.

Now, we’ve been to about 10 ports on rfamily cruises, and each one has been very welcoming. Heck, in Juno, not only were we not met by protesters, we were met by a surprisingly large group of friendly supporters. In fact, all through our Alaska trip the gay flags were waving in town, and the same, of course, goes for the North East. But we were about to hit a hostile port today and instead changed course.

I don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t like the idea that we ran, that we didn’t just go where we were scheduled to go, because of such people. Nothing for the better was changed for the people of Bermuda, gay and straight, by our caving into their bully. It made the news and despite their government's appreciated effort to bring us to their island, Bermuda is now unfairly anti-gay in many minds. Furthermore, our children were not given the opportunity to learn a valuable lesson in dealing with such. I don’t want to teach them to change their plans to avoid upsetting people who have no moral business being upset about their family.

On the other hand, these people are obsessed enough to protest families on vacation, and it’s our children. I’m used to it, but they are not, and I reflexively want to spare them from seeing that hostility, and from feeling how it felt when I first experienced it. Now we live where everyone in our lives is great. Our boys have no idea about the controversy in the minds of strangers. But to get off our ship and to see all those angry faces yelling slurs at us and the families of their friends… That’s a scenario the protective side of parenting wants to avoid, even though I know it would be a good learning opportunity and possibly a chance to avoid more pain in the long run. I just don’t know; it’s short term relief and long term regret that about equal out. Thankfully, the choice was far from mine and so I can just complain either way :-).

Anyway, today we split up. Given a choice, and after our descriptions, Alan was set on going kayaking and Brian was set against it. We actually like to split them up about once a week anyway; we’ve found, though they play well together and get along, they also like the one on one time. So Rob and Alan went off to paddle through the mandrake groves of the keys. They saw turtles, sharks, and many other bits of sea life. It was right down Alan’s alley.

Brian went with me and the grandparents, on the more tame Key West experience.

A local GLBT group was handing out those sun glasses to our kids for free as we got off the ship. Nice of them, huh?

Brian endured a tour of the city well, by sleeping through it (he has little interest in the architectural influences on Hemingway's home, I guess). But after that we visited the aquarium where we saw all the stuff Alan and Rob did, but in a more tame environment. He loved it. We also visited the wreaking museum, which was surprisingly interesting to him as well.

After that we met up for a lunch consisting of conch fritters and the most delicious key lime pie I’ve ever had. It was another wonderful day, and being diverted from Bermuda was easily forgotten, until writing this ;-).

Oh, and when we got back to the ship, Rob and Alan got matching tattoos. They're tough that way, for the kayaking I guess ;-).

Alan, got to pick the tat... a dinosaur, of course.

Day 4, The Mouse, I'm Out, and A Gay 80's Band

In Florida's air there’s apparently no room for one’s pitiful attempts at evaporative cooling. Today we woke up in Port Canaveral. It was in the high 90’s F, but not the sort of high 90’s we ever have back home.

I did my best to talk my family into visiting the space center--the air conditioned space center--but Disney World was just too close. So we boarded a Disney-bound bus full of kids and, somewhat surprisingly, a good percentage of the New York Gay Men’s Chorus, the main contingent of single men on the cruise… I’d have picked the space center, if in their shoes. I’m just say’n.

That’s us. And yes, we were pestered the whole time by those glowing fairies; the magic kingdom has quite an infestation and they ruined almost every picture.

Anyway, we had a wonderful time, as anyone with twin kindergarteners at Disney World would, despite the crushing heat. Stay away from the Lilo and Stitch “ride,” though, unless you’d like to be trapped in the dark with a halitosis sufferer on your lap.

Err.. . Okay, I’ve been wanting to get over my unwillingness to shown our faces, and I was just about to edit them out of another photo. But why? We have already had our faces in an eye much more public and widespread than this blog will ever be, and, if there is one, I’m sure we’re already on the enemies list ;-). Furthermore, this blog is going more personal anyway.

So this point is where facelessness ends (I'll keep the above photo as is as I like the idea of gay men being bothered by fairies).

Maybe it’s an odd choice for the first showing, but I love the picture, even though it shows us all haggard (and with Rob missing, taking the photo). I think it captures the essence of the end of a humid day at Disney World well (and yes our boys need haircuts, but we're waiting until the swimming lessons are over; fresh start):
Yeah, the skull… I’ll simply warn: never but in front of us in an hour plus line with near 100 degree temperatures and 100% humidity.

Once back on the ship we put the kids to bed with the grandparents in charge and went to that night’s entertainment, an Erasure concert. I again wonder if other cruises are generally like this, but we seem to get some pretty good shows for a cruise ship. Not that Erasure is big anymore, or that I’m a huge fan, but they were big when I was a teen, particularly for gay men, and it was fun to go to their concert, just a minuet’s walk from our room. On past cruises we’ve had Melissa Etheridge, and Cindy Lauper (you wouldn’t guess it, but she plays a mean dulcimer), and I’m sure I’m forgetting someone. It just seem rfamily does well for entertainment.

Reunion

I just got back from another trip, and want to take a break from my cruise posts for this one.

Rob came from a very conservative, very LDS, small town in the rurals of Utah. The boat we were on last week carries a larger population. So when he said he wanted to go to his class reunion this year, I half thought he was joking.

Ten years ago we didn’t attend because he wasn’t invited. The organizer called Rob to get the contact information of some of his classmates, but he never sent him an invitation. Once Rob asked for the information they had had the reunion over, and the organizer actually told him that he didn’t know how to reach us… Yes, after contacting Rob months before for the numbers of others.

Now, Rob was a popular kid. Heck, he was prom king, a fact I never tire of advertising. But none of his LDS friends (the great majority of his friends) took his being gay well, though a couple have come around today. In fact, my friends became Rob’s after we got together and we only saw his periodically; many just ended their relationship at the news.

Anyway, Rob wasn’t joking; he wanted to go to his reunion this year. He had begun reconnecting with some of them, via email, and he wanted to see them. And we were invited this time; the new committee was headed by a friend and not the same bigot who couldn’t even own up to his own “values” ten years ago.

I was nervous, but I wanted to go with him too. I wanted to have the experience, to hear about the Rob I never knew, to just stand there next to him for it. So, as I’d been joking for months before, we checked our life insurance policy for coverage of lynching and headed off for his reunion a couple days ago.

When we left, I had a bad cold. 1 week on a ship + 700 children = 1 bad cold for me, and every year. I wasn’t sick enough to be in bed though. Then, the day we got there we went 4-wheeling with Rob’s parents and had a great time, but I ended up with a couple red splotches on me from mosquitoes and horse flies. So I was basically going to walk into his reunion noticeably sick, and with red spots… I kept thinking they’d be sure I was suffering the consequences of our lewd and lawless lifestyle ;-). Add to that that I still had my sea legs from the ship, meaning I was losing my balance at random, and they’d probably think I came drunk as well.

It wasn’t looking good for me and then it got worse. Alan suddenly developed the fever Brian caught on the ship, of course. Long-story-short, I spent the day of Rob’s reunion in a hotel room, watching Animal Planet with Alan, trying to break his fever, while Rob and Brian went to the events. At least Rob’s classmates didn’t have to see Rob’s diseased and stone drunk “friend” :-).

I was kind of let down, but, as things stood, I was much more worried about the Tylenol/Motrin schedule. You hate it when your kid is sick, particularly when you’re handicapped too, but Alan and I had an okay lazy day together.

For Rob, it seems it was a mixed bag. There was a whole day of events tied in with Pioneer Day celebrations. Rob and Brian had a fun time riding in the parade, but he noticed some nudging, pointing, dirty looks. Some folks came up, talked to him, and asked about Alan and me. Some of them were people he never thought would do so. Sill, others gave a very pointedly cold shoulder. One woman involved in PFLAG there came up and told Rob that we are talked about often and fondly by many in that town and the surrounding towns. She was saying our family is discussed often by gay kids and their parents in the area, and she made Rob feel quite appreciated for coming. On the other hand, Rob found that someone had removed his picture from the high school plaque commemorating his class. Mixed bag.

All in all though, I'd say a mixed bag, with nothing worse than anonymous vandalism and cold shoulders, is quite a remarkable indication of positive change.

At the actual reunion dinner, it was pretty much the same thing. Rob was mainly in the company of his female friends, who could hang around him without catching the gay ;-). Though, he was pretty sure more of his male friends would have wanted to catch up, if not for the appearances, which are very and practically important in such a town, I gather. Some talked to him; some didn’t.

In all, he had a good time and will go to the next one (and I hope Alan and I will too). He didn’t care much about the negative. That’s one reason I love him, but let me give an example of why I married him. The first thing he told me about when he got back was not all the concerns I had, not about who was nice to him and who wouldn’t look at him. It was not all the reunion crap about who does what and who looks like what. The first thing he told me about his reunion was how happy he was to finally tell a girl, who he and his group of fiends had treated badly in high school, that he was very sorry, face to face. That was the highlight of his reunion.

I’m a lucky man.

Day 2, At Sea With Rosie

In the morning, we boarded the boat, got settled, and headed to the upper deck to watch us float past the cityscape. It was unsettling to again notice the space where the towers once stood, but just a turn of the head and one could see the statue of liberty. Beautiful.

Just as we were passing Manhattan by we found a friend from last year. He has kids about our children’s age and they were all thrilled to see each other again. Brian talked about them all last year.

(One of those kids is ours :-))

I wonder now if many cruises are like this--the non-rfamily cruises I’ve been on were not--but every evening there’s a theme. This evening it was “State Fair”. Now, BC (Before Children) I’d refuse to participate in anything like this, but if my kids and Rob are all going to be dressed the same then I’ll conform too, just with protest slight enough that I know I’ll lose. So we all put on our Utah gear and headed to the BBQ.

Again, it’s amazing how many different states and countries were represented there, though most people were from around New York, of course.

Finally, I’m not really a big fan of Rosie O’Donnel. To me, she’s kind of like, say, the omelet of celebrities. I don’t have anything against omelets. I can enjoy them if it’s what’s for breakfast and I can see why some like them and some don’t, but I’ve no strong feelings and would never order one for my self. That’s right; Rosie O’Donnel = omelet… [sigh] It’s early. Simply, I appreciate what her family has done in putting on this cruise, I know she’s entertaining and I respect her talents but they just don’t resonate with my innate tastes. Furthermore, she is more of the bad cop sort of gay activist, and, as I’ve said, I can certainly see their great contributions, but their methods just rub me the wrong way. So sue me, Gay Mafia.

Rob on the other hand, I fear the only person for whom he might leave me would be Rosie. Could you imagine the tabloids? “Avowed Lesbian Rosie O’Donnell Wrecks Gay Man’s Family, Film at 11” He reads her blog as habit and writes in periodically.

Anyway, she MC’s most of the entertainment on the ship. The first night they put on some Broadway show. I’m not into such singing and so I stayed for her opening act and a couple numbers by some famous Broadway singers (I think), but when one of the boys had to go pee, I graciously “sacrificed” and took him back to the room.

Point is, I unexpectedly learned a lesson in PR and spin that night. Rosie made a couple jokes about her fight with Donald Trump and Hasselbeck. It would be difficult to care any less for such conflict, and it went by as just a couple small jokes in her set, but what followed was interesting. At port we talked to my sister and found out that some one in the audience had video taped the performance and sent it in to the media; it was even on the O’Reilly factor. We had a traitor on board :-).

I’m not going to list all the false facts and mischaracterizations I’ve found in searching “news” items about what happened on stage that night. I feel guilty to even search for it. It’s just seems so silly all around. But it is amazing to see how the media gets it wrong, even when they have video, and always in the direction of the more sensational (As I guess I knew already with our own experiences, here). It was also annoying that the whole event can be spun in some minds into a negative light for a couple jokes by one person in a 90 minute show for a week long cruise. I mean, one that got me riled was something like “Gay Cruise Becomes Anti-Hasselbeck Brainwashing Session”. We were all way too busy going to our on board workshops on converting heterosexuals, eroding societies, and sabotaging apple pies to worry about celebrity fights.

Great, now I feel stupid for even bringing it up.

Day 1, New York and Outings

(The next couple posts will be a bit of journal entries along with my take on the day from the time I'm writing this; forgive me if I mess the tense up)

Not much to tell on this day. We went to Time Square, which meant that we had to go to the huge Toys R Us there. After the Farris wheel, the boys got to pick out “any toy in the place” (no worries, I know their tastes and was not at risk of spending over 50 bucks… as long as I could keep Brian away from noticing the electronics; he’s just like his pop :-)).

Alan was fascinated by the animatronic dinosaur. He couldn’t quite decide if it was real or not and I was not about to stop his deliberation. He was pretty sure it wasn’t real, as we’ve had the extinct conversation many times… still, he didn’t want me to get too close.

At dinner grandma, as she often does, outed us all to the restaurant. This is really no big deal to us anymore, particularly in a friendly place like New York, but it was once a bother. I mean it goes something like:

Waiter: "Hi, my name is John and I’ll be your waiter. What would you like to drink?"

Mom: "My son here is gay and I'll have a Diet Coke..."

Okay, maybe there's more of an opening for her to bring it up, but not much ;-).

Rob and I kind of like to only out ourselves if it comes up naturally in conversation, as any other person would, but I do get a kick out of how out of their way my parents sometimes go to express their love and support. If it’s my dad he may commonly add something like: “and if you’ve a problem with gays then you’ve got a problem with me.” I don’t think many expect such from people in their seventies. Gotta love’em.

As we were leaving, the waiter came up and told us how he’d worked on the same cruise ship line. He told us how much the staff he knew loved the rfamily cruises, and said they found the passengers to be abnormally polite… maybe he says that to all the cruises :-).

My Kind of Gay Cruising

So when I said I was taking the summer off from blogging I didn’t really give the other reason beyond work and playground construction. We’ve been out of town a lot and the paranoia in me doesn’t want to advertize being away from home on the net. But yeah, I’ve been on the move for quite a while; please forgive my lack of response to email.

We just returned from our yearly rfamily vacation. For those who don’t know, it’s a cruise organized by a company owned by Kellie O’Donnell (Rosie O'Donnell’s wife), and it’s meant to be a vacation where families headed by GLBT parents can relax without the likelihood of their family makeup being an issue.

This is our third time on one of these cruises. With them, we’ve walked a fishing village in Halifax, panned for gold in Skagway, toured historic Boston, watched glaciers calve just out of Juno, and much more. In all, we’ve spent almost a month of our lives on these vacations and have loved the experience.

I’ll get into what we did this year later on. I was going to blog on ship but didn’t want to take time from our busy relaxing to do so or even open the laptop I lugged around all week, so I’ll copy and share some journal entries later.

In general and simply though, it’s a wonderful experience each year. The ship has been the same design each year and it sells out at about 3,000 passengers. Between 600 and 800 of those are children, depending upon the year, and so you can imagine the atmosphere. Add to that about the same number of gay or lesbian parents and the rest are straight friends and family, most of them grandparents (we’ve taken my parents every year). On this cruise though, there were many more young gay couples, without children. I suppose most of them wanted to go on a gay cruise but not a Gay Cruise... I’ve been on regular cruises before and these rfamily affairs are more family oriented and tame by a good distance than even the straight counterparts I've seen. Heck, we’ve all got to be to bed by 9 ;-).

The kids simply love it and talk about the “big ship” all year. We weren’t going to go this year but they talked us into it and it’s easy to see why. We basically play all day. Off ship we go on some adventure and on ship they swim or play with the other children all over this vast floating city.

They’ve made some really good friends over the years too. Our boys haven’t yet figured out there’s any social issue surrounding our family and have yet to really say or ask anything significant about it, but I’m sure some questions and hurdles are coming, eventually. We have been careful to have friends for them around with all sorts of family structures here in Utah, and I’m glad they are forging the social connections they are on these cruises, just in case.

And, sure, we love it too. Aside from the travel, we’ve made some really good friends as well. The ship is full of family focused gays and lesbians and it’s hard not to find that common thread in our experiences and goals that leads to easy conversation and on to welcomed friendships. We have been very fortunate to get to know some of the folks we’ve met, and look forward to the opportunities to get together in between cruises despite the fact we live all over the world (the map below shows just the US guests but over 50 countries were represented). Once one becomes a parent, it becomes much more difficult to find people you’d want to bring into your, and therefore your children’s lives as family friends, but not on this cruise; the people are, in general, amazing.

I think I’ll spend the next couple posts going over our trip this year. I fear I’m becoming too accustomed to not blogging lately (I forgot my password there for a while!) and I best pump up my post count ;-).

How I’m Spending My Summer Break

As regulars around here will know, I’ve been absent much of the last couple weeks in the hopes of getting much done over the summer, at work and home. For graciously excusing my leave, I figure I best show some evidence of a vacation well spent (okay, sure, I’m also proud o’ my work and want to brag :-)). With that I give you an exciting post about the progress of our sand box.

I wish I’d thought to take an earlier “before” photo but here’s the first:

We only have the posts in for the first wall at this point. This though involved a deceptive amount of dirt movement, from the post holes to the leveling, not to mention the post mix. Thankfully I had my herniated husband and my senior citizen dad helping. Now, I'm only half kidding here and should say my "senior citizen" dad taught me all I know in doing such work and he could probably out work most men half his age. I'm lucky to be able to recruit him in his retirement. Rob, though, he was only able to keep the posts stable as I shoveled the cement; I hope he can get that fixed soon :-). And it was all done with the kids gladly “helping.” All the parents know what that means: cute and appreciated, but cute and appreciated negative work :-).

First wall done. Now one might think that’s me there, taking a break for my exhaustion. But no. That’s a, uh, ninja; you can tell by the black face mask concealing his identity. The guy had the misfortune of surprising me while I worked. Strange though, I don’t understand why our neighborhood has such a ninja problem. We do spray for them every year.

Oh wow, how’d that get in here? That’s our puppy, a couple pounds larger. He's been tasked with keeping the cats out of the sand.

Anyway, with the 1st wall done we got to building the second, see:

I then leveled the whole thing again and tried to keep the boys out of it until the sand arrived, see:

Once it did

I smartly decided I needed a break and some help from someone not as herniated as Rob. I thought about emailing Edgy--he did kindly offer--but decided I couldn’t be that cruel to anyone I hadn’t known for at least a decade or to whom I wasn’t paying good money. Add then a couple days to the above pile of sand and there you have it, one multilevel sand box:

Certainly any person enthralled with my sandbox project from the start--and I’m sure there are many--can see some design changes were made along the way and that it's not yet finished. For one, I decided to put the slide from the upper level of the yard down into the sandbox, instead of from the sandbox down to the lower level of the yard. It’ll be more fun for them I think as it will come from the area of their play fort (my next home project), and, besides, it’ll keep toys and sand from sliding into the grass. I’m still shopping for the right slide though; maybe next weekend I’ll get that in.

Also, I didn’t put in the gi joe/transformers tunnels yet. I’m still thinking on how to do it in a way that’s durable (or if I can do it through the retaining wall instead). I’m also still toying with putting in a third level, as I'd planned. After watching the kids play in the second I feared it would crowd them and decided to see how it went. Two just doesn’t feel like enough, does it?

Anyway, not the most ground breaking post, but it was an important and fun addition to our home. Last evening we just sat quietly on the back patio and watched the boys play with their toys in their new sandbox. There were castles built, dump trucks at work, dinosaur roaming, and so on and on. It was the definition of what makes a parent happy.

Now I can’t wait to get the slide in and the fort done :-).

Block Over; Military Secrets Reveled

After many long hours of investigative journalism, which involved much running from a one-armed albino man in black (who smoked), I’ve come to discover the truth behind our military’s so called gay bomb. I've come to possess a super secret file, one that came directly from Rufus Wainwright's spy network by feeding his new album backwards into a 5th order cryptocognonial function. The file contained this exclusive photographic evidence of the prototype gay bomb, the “Q-33R Intercontinental Gayifier”:


My colleagues and I here at the Fraternal Association of Gay Scientists believe this missile is based loosely on the Trident II, though significant alterations are apparent. For instance, take a look at the midsection of the missile. Clearly, a disco ball has been attached, a cleaver choice to coax out the inner gay, to be sure; but what may not be so obvious is the Kevlar-reinforced feather boa securing the disco ball to the missile. That baby ain’t coming off, and it just screams “Fabulous!!”

Also, it is clear this missile is launched from water. One must assume the Navy has taken the lead role in this new gay weapon (From my friends who've been in the Marines and the Army, I'm told this was to be expected).

Not apparent by the evidence we have is whether or not the missile has been outfitted with a really kick’n sound system. But the use of a disco ball does suggest the missile may also be able to project bad techno beyond enemy lines.

In a blood stained copy of a US military internal memo that accompanied the liner notes of the Rufus CD, I’ve discovered a number of additional intriguing details. Regarding the main warhead, we have come to believe it is likely composed of a dangerous mixture of shredded Abercrombie and Finch catalogs, styling gel, and Barbara Streisand sweat, as a catalyst. This sweat, we believe, was collected during one of her many remarkable costume changes at a San Francisco show she put on just after watching Steel Magnolias for the very first time!

Furthermore, as the so-called gay bomb flies towards its target, it continually drops handwritten letters, ostensible from a soldier’s father, explaining why the soldier has been a complete disappointment as a man and expressing a desire to become emotionally unavailable, while at the same time suggesting the soldier go shopping with his mother. Lastly, it appears, as a next iteration in the design, a sort of cluster bomb technology will be employed. Once above the target the warhead will produce hundreds of guided projectiles. Much of the report I’m reading from is heavily redacted, but it seems these projectiles seek out and destroy any and all basket balls, footballs, and hockey pucks within a 3.4 mile radius. Oddly enough though, they specifically avoid all wrestling and men’s gymnastics equipment.

Yes, devious, and yet so very obvious! I fear we have to conclude NARTH is working in conjunction with the Defense Department on this one. (Why can’t I get such grants?!)

Anyway, God save us all if one of these goes off in the heartland of America. I just hope I’ve done my part to shed light on this ingenious scheme. I also hope we can bring such offensive and inhumane weaponry it to a stop and start blowing people up again. I mean, not even I, a gay man, would want to be the soldier who tries to take a bunch of horney men captive after one of these goes off in the sweaty, filthy, enemy trench across the battlefield. I hate being hit on and to even see the results of a gay bomb could possibly violate the Geneva Conventions for many of our own fine soldiers.

(okay, sure, I’m on blog-break and there were better things I should’ve been doing with my time, but some things are so important they can’t be left unexpressed :-))

I Could Think of Worse Bombs

Story Here.

“Pentagon Confirms It Sought To Build A 'Gay Bomb'
...
As part of a military effort to develop non-lethal weapons, the proposal suggested, "One distasteful but completely non-lethal example would be strong aphrodisiacs, especially if the chemical also caused homosexual behavior."The documents show the Air Force lab asked for $7.5 million to develop such a chemical weapon."

The Ohio Air Force lab proposed that a bomb be developed that contained a chemical that would cause enemy soliders to become gay, and to have their units break down because all their soldiers became irresistably attractive to one another," Hammond said after reviwing the documents.
...”

Just come up with your own joke. I’m experiencing some sort block involving the presence of too many options.

SLC Pride 2007

I’ve enough time to just post some pictures from pride, right? I deserve a break, right? :-)

I sure do.

SLC’s pride festival was the largest I’ve ever seen (eh, “pride,” if only I was powerful enough in the gay cabal, I’d task a queer committee to come up with a better name. Alas, my gay powers are too weak.). It’s really become a fun event and I can see why they’ve grown from 1 to 3 days. I must say I also very much appreciate how they’ve made it much more inclusive of families; we got a whole big kid's section this time and our boys loved the magic show and face painting.

Here we are:

Damnable seagulls! They covered up Rob and the boy’s faces, not to mention my parents. They missed my aunt there though :-).

Anyway, in the parade we had many churches:

Many politicians:

Many advocacy groups:

The people were from all walks of life, cheering them on:

But what’s get’s the most attention?

That’s right:
Oh well. It’s certainly their day too :-).

Lastly, of course, there’s the part I worry I’ve gotten too numb to:

You can’t see it in this resolution but “Mormons” are on that man'snaughty list too (the guy with the middle sign). Or is it “Sex Addicts Mormons”? Here, I’ll blow it up; it’s kind of funny in a gallows humor sort of way.

No matter, they’re an expected part of the event, and they almost make the loving and jubilant feeling of the crowd even larger by the contrast. People just march right on.

I want to give one anecdote that really got to me, though (I’ve already spent more time here than I should have :-)).

We weren’t going to walk in the parade, but Alan insisted on it once he saw some people he knew (He likes the waving and cheers of others I guess :-)). So Alan and I walked on with a bunch of other families and Brian, more shy, stayed back with Rob and the rest of our family.

As I was walking a kid came up behind me yelling Brian’s name. At first I thought that my blog had found me ;-), but it was Brian’s real name. I turned and didn’t recognize the kid but he kept on and finally it was clear he was trying to get my attention, though he’d mixed my kids up. I felt bad I didn’t recognize him and was a bit leery (Being away from Rob I didn’t want to be seen talking to a handsome young man I didn’t know :-)). He quickly reminded me that we met over a year ago. He was a cousin of a niece (outside my direct family), and, at that point in his life, was having a very hard time with his parents, his faith, and his view of his future. When my niece told me his story, we offered to help and he and his partner had dinner at our home. I had forgotten it; it had been so long ago (or maybe it's my memory? :-)).

I’ll not go into the whole of what he told me there, walking in the parade route, but he basically made me feel like I’d made a positive and lasting difference. It’s funny that I didn't even know it, and that such a forgotten gesture of a dinner could come back to you like that. Walking in any parade is just fun for the community and people-watching aspects of it alone, but that made it feel a bit important too. I walked the remaining blocks with much more purpose.

Anyway, I'm still officially on blog "break". Now back to non-blog work :-).

Season Finale

It’s the season for them, right? I’ve been putting this post off and wrestling with this over the holiday, but I’ve decided to take a break from blogging. I’m not leaving for good; just headed out for a while.

I’ve ran out of topics from which I can cannibalize old writings and, for a longwinded guy like me, it takes a good deal of time, time I would have if not for a couple new projects. Simply something has to give. I’ve hung a couple large professional projects over my head, and that will be taking up a lot of my break time. In my home time, which already belongs to others :-), I’ve just started my kid’s sand box and that’s turned into a slide/swing/playhouse project that I’m not moving on fast enough. I want to get that done before I find myself shoveling sand and mixing cement in triple digit temperatures. And I have to gloat; take a look at my sands box plans:

That’s right. It’s a three level sandbox with tunnels from each level down to the next (you know, for match box cars and transformers). Just wait until you see the playhouse. I’m sorry I made the kid in you cry with jealousy. (You may also notice it’s an elevated 3-level sandbox… yeah, if anyone wants to help shovel sand up a 5 foot retaining wall, after transporting it about 20 yards, let me know ;-))

AND, on top of that, and as the straw that broke the camel’s blog and caused me to quit procrastinating this post, we just found out Rob will need a hernia patched up. At first I thought he just didn't want to shovel sand, but a doctor confirmed his claim ;-). I’ll be a very busy guy while he’s down.

Anyway, I’ll miss blogging as frequently. Also, keeping a blog and knowing someone is reading it kind of makes it feel like an obligation, one I feel like I’m shirking. Perhaps “obligation” is too conceited a word, but, I mean, I am the unofficial and illegitimate leader of the anti-mohos, right ;-)?

I’ve probably said enough to get my main point across for now, and others can make the point better I’m sure. Though I’ve been fortunate, I’ve seen a lot of the type of trauma gay men go through in this culture, and, while I understand it’s a necessary struggle to many minds, it is, to me, quite a sad and avoidable mess. It’s probably because of my local culture, but I seem to meet a different man/father with a new (and yet old) story at each gay community event. I’d be happy to just have fewer gays experience those cliché and terrible pasts, not to mention the family hurt along with them, however such is avoided, in a gay or heterosexual relationship.

I’d stick by my manual; if it feels wrong, it will be (even if it isn’t :-)), and I’d imagine that goes for any relationship. Being gay is only a curse if you treat it as such. You can have a lasting marriage, security, monogamy, and according to your orientation, just as though you came with the conventional orientation for your sex, if you want it. You can be a father in addition, and find more joy there than most can imagine. On the flipside though, if you can’t get by the idea that it’s ethically wrong to be in a gay relationship, doing so can be very dangerous. I could get guff for saying it, but sometimes it is best to not follow your orientation. If you treat it like an addiction, it will treat you like an addict, and no one wants another self-destructive gay man in the world. It doesn’t matter if his culture made him think what he does about his orientation. It doesn’t ultimately matter what the intentions of his culture were. If the moral idea is still there, in the individual, the negative consequences of acting against his set of ethics seem inevitable.

Shoot, now I’m remembering all the other areas I’ve wanted to get into, more into questions of faith and the roots of morality, more into the research I’ve collected. I hope though to come back with a site as a place for such, and to make my blog a more journal-y sort of space as I said I would months ago. I’ll save the research for that hopeful new site, another project which this blog puts off (It’s taken a while for many reasons: for one, the trial version of the software I was using expired and I’ve not found an occasion to head to a store and haven’t remembered it when I’m there :-), and I’m, again, short on time).

To be clear, I anticipate I’ll be back when I get a couple projects off my plate; heck, I may post next week if the mood hits me. I’ll still be checking my email and chatting and such; I’ll still be socializing as much as time allows. I’ve plainly come to enjoy a lot of the people I’ve met here, and, blog or no, I don’t want to lose touch. I’ve learned from you, complained to you, swapped small-talked, and I have enjoyed it even when we couldn’t seem to avoid debate and touchy subjects. I’ve also come to care about many of the mohos in this ring of blogs, and though some days my mind has been, perhaps, overly occupied with the predicaments of people I don’t really know and have no business worrying about :-), I’m grateful to have been given an opportunity to give my 2 cents, for the old reasons. Again, if there’s any thing anyone could want from my point of view in the meantime, please send off an email.

Anyway, until next season.…

Will Scot build the sandbox in time?! Will Rob take the tainted “single” parent money?! Will Alan make another goal (for his team)?! Will Brian Optimusprime Graham finally master the Jedi Mind Trick on his parents?!

Stay tuned to find this out and more in the next exciting season of utahcog.blogspot.com.

I’d Do It All Over Again Again

As I’ve said, I’ve been married a couple times now, of course, each time to the same person (Never been divorced though :-)). The first time, well over a decade ago, was never legal, but it was by far the most important. Then we started a family, Rob quite his job and became a homemaker, and suddenly the law became quite important.

To that end, another tying of the knot was done during the national panic over gay marriage. I admit, we jumped the gun there, anxious to get the legal aspects. We were too naive also as to think it could hold. Maybe we should also have thought more about the backlash, but we knew it was already well on its way by then and it felt like, if we didn’t do it when it was offered, we’d miss our chance.

So a couple weeks after San Francisco’s city hall began giving gay couples licenses, we decided to do it. Rob spent nearly all day redialing the phone number before he got through and got an appointment for a month later.

When the day came, we decided to just fly in and fly out and we left the boys with their grandparents. Once there, we walked up to city hall absolutely nervous. The exterior was so quiet that we disbelieved we were in the right place. It looked nothing like it did on the news and we expected to have to at least sprint through a pack of wild-eyed protesters. Seems they got tired and went home.

As we entered, though, things were far from quiet, and far from hostile. San Francisco’s city hall is a beautiful spacious building and the main hall was full of palpable love, people making vows, cheering, crying. It was a spiritual experience if I’ve ever had one. Couples were there from all over the United States, and all incredibly nice and grateful.

When our time came, though, we were asked for our witness to come forward. We’d left never thinking of the help we’d need. We had none.

Fortunately, an elderly woman who, by her dress, one could have mistaken for an RNC chairwoman, noticed our stammer at the question and she took on the job. She was actually a retired grandmother from some small town about an hour away, and had been there all week, volunteering because she wanted to be a help in that step in history. Another woman, there for near the same reason as the first, would be our photographer. On top of that, we were given a beautiful bouquet of flowers. People from all over the world were sending flowers to be given out to the couples getting married; they were stranger just wanting to congratulate another set of strangers. Ours were from a family in Canada. Needless to say, it was all incredibly touching.

So we stood on the steps in this great hall. We said our vows once more, and kissed, and were overcome with the emotion, as is my habit :-). The crowd cheered and congratulated and we were given that official looking piece of paper telling us the state of California would respect our vows as any other citizen’s and hold us to our promises.

It was a great experience and I can’t say I regret it, even knowing what I know now. It was, in many ways, a very different experience than our first marriage, of course. There was no home full of friends and family, no caterer, no tuxedos, no promise of a great celebration to follow. We were alone in that town again, as were were a couple years before at one of the saddest days in our lives. I think we didn’t want to make a big deal of it, for the fear of encroaching on the original day, but it was special. Some aspects were surprisingly the same; there we were, making those vows, again. To just say it has great power, even if the vows aren’t in need of renewal.

Lastly in this story, as we were leaving Mayor Newsom, the guy who started giving out the marriage certificates in the first place, was coming in the door (yeah, too bad about the infidelity…). Anyway, he stood for a picture with us. It's unfortunate, as you can see, that a giant pigeon, wouldn’t you know it, flew right in front of the camera blocking our faces, but you get the idea ;-). Pigeon aside, it was a great day.

Ultimately, though, someone went to court. Someone argued that we shouldn’t have those rights or responsibilities, and they won. We’d have all that right now, but our sex was checked and, on a sad day months later, we received a letter in the mail telling us we were officially “single” again, forcibly evicted from legal matrimony. The letter was phrased nicely and the city of San Francisco offered to send back the fee they collected. We donated the money to HRC, seemed fitting.

I still keep that letter and that voided license as a significant piece of memorabilia. I’ll some day show it to my kids, and, hopefully, they’ll listen to stories about these days in philosophical disbelief.

Anyway, that’s not the last time I’ll be hitched, of course. [gulp] I’m engaged again :-).

One may think it would be old hat by now, but no. To assure your spouse you’d marry them over again, that you want to be responsible for and rely on them, and in such practical terms, is mooving for any relationship, I’m sure (but still, no, I didn’t buy an engagement ring. :-)).

We’ve decided we’ll be headed up to Vancouver at our next opportunity (if their law stands).

Now, I know--I keenly know-- It won’t be enforceable once the plane sets us back in Utah, but at least it’s one more tangible piece of evidence as to what my intentions are, if something were to happen to me. It's one more set of promises, another excuse to say them and hear them said, and in front of witnesses who will hold us to them. And maybe it’s one more legal connection that would be honored, if US and Utah law is someday made friendlier to our home (or if it gets so bad here we find ourselves crossing the 49th parallel in the dead of night ;-)).

Man, we should start asking for wedding presents each time; we could make a fortune...

Twice As Good Is Equal

My sons, both are wonderful little souls but very very different, each requiring different sorts of parenting altogether. They both act up every now and then, but Alan is very easy to understand when that happens. There’s clear cause and a path, A to B, to a solution. Brian, on the other hand, sometimes he makes me feel like I’m working a rubix cube to figure out what exactly is going on in that little head that makes him do some things.

As my boys began pushing our boundaries, it worried me; acting up and sassing back worried me. Looking back I feel silly, but it did. As a minority family in such a culture, I’m always on the lookout for the fabled signs of how our family makeup affects them. And let’s face it. Almost everyone goes into parenting hopeful, and excited, but also scared to be in control of something more important than you can wrap your head around. Are you up to the job? That job?! Will you inadvertently hurt them? Are you hurting them?

And this is why I love Soccer.

While the kids are out there approximating a competitive sport in the most adorable way, the parents get to talk. At the last game, I was talking to a mother of a classmate; her son comes over for play dates and such more than any other. I opened up about the sort of things I was worried about. She just laughed, and with a “that’s nothing” she listed off what goes on in her home with her boys. A father overheard and started in with his stories, even saying it got to the point where he had spanked his son a couple times, a point we’ve never neared. These are great kids from which I’d never have expected such behavior even in their private home. In short it is, of course, not abnormal.

Finally another mother stepped in and told us she what was becoming clear; I was overly concerned. She retold a conversation with our kids’ preschool teacher on the way to a school field trip. They got to talking about our family (I guess we’re a novelty :-)), and the teacher told her how sweet and well behaved our children were and that, of the parents, we were the most involved in their schooling “as a couple” (this woman was divorced, of course :-)). This teacher, who was a part of the majority culture here and knew our kids well, was giving our family unsolicited praise to other parents. This was, in fact, an account the mother had shared with us before but it was so easy to forget it, that we seem to be doing just fine, better than fine. Sassing back and acting up is more than normal for 4-year-olds, and I knew and know that. In fact, one should probably worry if their kid never tested the boundaries. But I still worried that such was abnormal or could have something to do with us.

Why? Why do I get inordinately worried, and get pleasure from hearing other’s 4-year-olds are more than a little defiant? :-)

Well, this is why I like my volunteer work. I get to interact with all sorts of people, cultures, and minority groups, even in Utah ;-). I’ve often heard my Hispanic and black colleagues express something that rings true for my family. Something like “To be treated as equals we have to be twice as good.” A friend even tells her children this.

In short, I know what people expect from my family. I read the horrible things they predict about my kids, from high drug use to mental problems, in opinion columns and online. I fear for how such expectations will harm my boys; I fear people will treat them like victims or worse. There’s also a part of me that can’t be unaffected by even a baseless warning about my kids. I know our family is both native and strange here; I know we are relatively new and old to our culture. I think I understand how we can live and live well even here… But what if there is something I didn’t factor in to my agonizing and study on becoming parents in such a world? What if the intricate plans I’ve made for us are ruined, by, say, a new law or even a new family in my kid’s school? I’ve got our minority status under control now; everyone is wonderful to us now, but what about then? I’ve come to learn from my friends these are typical fears of a minority parent.

These fears, of course, don’t seem to stop families, and they most often shouldn’t. Even in times when having a child for a minority group meant a clearly horrible future for that child with accurate predictions, people still pushed on. But not without this fear, and fear for your child is like no other. I remember the day I first held them and everything was beautiful, except one speck of a moment. I remember looking down at them sleeping in their twin bassinets, laying there more real than myself, and feeling that fear for them and feeling how motivated I was for them and what I’d do to protect them; it scared me.

I wish such worries weren’t there, but they are and will be for decades, until our families are comfortably folded into the society. I’m also pretty sure all parents feel something similar, regardless of their place in their culture. It goes with the territory.

Regardless of it all though, we’re doing good, by all I can see and by the unsolicited measurement of those who know us. But there’s always that knowledge, that whatever weakness we show as a family it will not be treated the same way as the weaknesses of our neighbors. Any problem in our home will be treated as an inevitable consequence of our family makeup, never simply a random tragedy of human behavior. A temper tantrum for a heterosexual couple is just a temper tantrum; for us, many will tend to look at it in terms of inferior and superior families. I know this; I know my children will be expected to have a deficiency by most, from the average guy on the street to our next president (particularly if it’s Romney ;-)), and that is a threat to them, a worry, one that’s hard to simply let go.

Lastly, I must admit it’s also a worry I’ll fall into that trap too and make them feel they’ll have to be twice as good to be treated as equal. I disagree with my Hispanic friend above; I can’t tell my child that. Right now, they know we’re different from most but they don’t know there’s any political or social fight surrounding our family, and I want to keep it that way as long as I can. I want them to be twice above the average only because they are the most amazing children to ever walk the earth, of course :-).

Fanboy, The Ubergay and His Powers

Okay, off any important topic, I’ve really come to enjoy the show Heroes. Rob and I have watched it from the start, as well as a couple fellow bloggers, and tonight is the season finally. So, will Peter explode?! Will Sylar explode?! Will Hiro stop him?.. Or explode? Will Sulu come out… regarding his secret super power?! Does it have anything to do with flames?

We don’t allow much time to get involved in shows; we typically only follow a couple per season. Being so limited, Heroes easily took the place of 24 last year. I find it greatly entertaining, and will be sad to see it take a break (but glad to see there’s a spinoff in the works too).

If there’s one complaint it’d be that they keep killing characters I want to see more of: the waitress who remembers everything, the mechanic with super hearing. At least Peter is getting less whiney and Hiro or Nicky alone would make the show worth it ([geek mode]Though, why didn’t Hiro teleport during combat in the episode 5 years into the future? That would have been so cool. And, while I'm asking questions, why couldn't "the Haitian" stop Ted from blowing up in Clair's home? [/geek mode]).

You know though, maybe this is a relevant topic. It's been hit on before. One cannot miss the intentional parallels with being gay and coming out in, say, the X-men movies. Yeah, I know, it’s so sad that you can fly and all… Heroes is similar in many regards (copyright similar?). No, gay men aren’t flying around in tights. But they often have secret identities and there are some associated “powers”. Like uhh:

Adaptive Camouflage—The ability to pass as “one of them” and “one of us” by the flick of a wrist and a twist of the tongue. Some individuals in other minority groups say they’d want this power, but it can be a mixed bag. In some ways it’s better to have your superhero identity forced into the open, dealt with and done; in other ways, though, it’s undeniably useful to pass. I guess it’s the sort of power you’d not want to abuse.

Outsider vision—The ability to better see your culture from both the inside and out. Many of us don’t realize we’re gay early on and we all receive the same training into our teens as the average. But once the difference is realized and we decide to not suppress and hide we are often kicked out of the norm and given another perspective. This too, of course, is a mixed bag. On one hand we are forced to find the actual value in stuff like marriage for ourselves without it being assumed into us. On the other hand, without the assumptions and without being a full member of the surrounding culture, some become self-destructive. For the latter sort of gays, it’s probably best to never try on the tights.

Improved empathic ability—As I’ve said before, I sometime worry about the person I’d be if I was not, here and there, treated like a pariah, an evil outsider. At the time it hurts, but it teaches a lesson. I was a moralizing and strict child, firmly certain I had Truth in my beliefs, and that changed. Not that I’m a bastion of understanding and empathy now—I know I’ve my judgmental streak—but I also know I would be worse if not for the way I’ve been treated for being gay. I count that as a blessing.

Gay Powers I Don’t Have—As I’ve said before, I’m weak in the many gay skills, listed here. I mean, at least give me a preternatural fashion sense or the amazing dancing ability, or any rhythm. But no, I’m just gay. Fine. Whatever.

Finally, I suppose every superhero should have a weakness too, a kryptonite to your superman. Let’s see… mine would be…. cilantro. Yes cilantro, the weed that tastes like aluminum foil (I’d imagine). I cower at the sight of it sprinkled on anything from salsa to tandoori chicken; my powers just wither.

Please don’t let that secret out.

What He Is To Me, Legally

A couple times now I’ve gone over how the legal misclassification of my relationship between Rob and me causes problems (1, 2, 3, 4). We’ve, in fact, both been married now a couple times (to each other :-)), but they haven’t been enforceable by law. Still, we really are fortunate, much more than most in this state. We do have a legal connection.

About 5 years ago we went to court. We sat in front of a judge. We were questioned, and we told our story, and shared our lives’ greatest intentions and most personal hopes. At the end of it all, the Judge ruled, and we suddenly were connected together by law and obligation for as long as we exist. We were both the parents, in law and in spirit, of the same children.

That’s a legal connection many gay and lesbian parents in Utah never figure out how to form. Our law here makes it so only single gay men and women can adopt and so many of our families have one parent who has no legal connection. They can’t even get their child on their health insurance. But we have those ties and abilities.

Thinking on it, in a way, it’s even better than a legal marriage; it’s a more important connection in law. There is no conceivable divorce here. We are tied together as a family, even if one of us went insane, bought a sports car, found a boy friend a decade younger, and left the other.

It may be for this reason those against gay rights are willing to keep kids already in our homes without the inheritance and health insurance they could get if all our families had these ties. They are afraid we’ll have any legal connection to each other and, I hate to fuel the fire, but I have to admit this is a large and important one.

So, that’s it. Rob, as the slang goes, is officially and legally my "baby daddy". And I couldn’t be more grateful for that fact, both in law and in reality. Unlike the stereotype, he’s a great baby daddy.

Now, where do I find that checkbox on my taxes?

Why Do I Modify Your Noun?

These gay debates do have their quirky little bits, don’t they? There’s one I have a hard time understanding and, if anyone can explain it, it’s this crowd.

Is a person solely attracted to men and who is also a man dealing with 'Same Sex Attraction' and/or is he a 'homosexual' or 'gay'? Why does it matter?

First, I do understand ‘gay’ can mean to some that a same-sex relationship is occurring, though it doesn't to my mind. I also understand there are reasons of faith for which that word may be rejected for something that sounds more clinical, like a medical condition. I’m wondering more about nouns vs adjectives:

From the recent interview with Elder Oaks and Wickman of the LDS church (my bold):

“I think it’s important for you [a hypothetical gay child] to understand that homosexuality, which you’ve spoken of, is not a noun that describes a condition. It’s an adjective that describes feelings or behavior.”

Or from the LDS web site, here:

“We should note that the words homosexual, lesbian, and gay are adjectives to describe particular thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. We should refrain from using these words as nouns to identify particular conditions or specific persons. Our religious doctrine dictates this usage. It is wrong to use these words to denote a condition, because this implies that a person is consigned by birth to a circumstance in which he or she has no choice in respect to the critically important matter of sexual behavior.”

I see a couple mohos who are "wrong" in this regard ;-). Anyway, how one can decree such a word to be only an adjective by doctrine seems kind of surprising, but, that aside, I’ve a hard time understanding why anyone would attempt this at all? Even going with the LDS view of homosexuality, why shouldn’t we have a name for people struggling with “SSA”?

The dictionaries I have certainly do not agree with the above statements, but it’s stranger than that. Take, say, the word “Dentist”. It’s a noun referring to a condition of a person, one who practices dentistry, but it in no way implies that a person is “consigned by birth to a circumstance in which he or she has no choice in respect to the critically important matter of behavior”, right? The same goes with the word “southpaw”, or “diabetic”? In fact, there is less evidence that being left-handed is consigned from birth than there is for homosexuality (detailed here, here, and here). Southpaws choose their behavior, but, also like gays, not how it feels. Regardless, they still get a noun, right?

I also thought maybe it’s just because they see being gay as a negative and that somehow makes us not want to have a noun for it (why? I don’t know). But then we do have nouns for murderers and kleptomaniacs, and I’ve never heard the LDS church advise against using other such nouns.

So what’s the deal here?

That aside, my take: I think this whole area of classifying gays had been tainted by old prejudice long before even the term “homosexual” was coined (1892, according to my dictionary of etymology). Gay people aren’t precisely attracted to their same sex. They are people attracted to a particular sex, regardless of their own sex, just like most everyone else in the world, and their feelings of attraction are far from abnormal in humans. They are quite ordinary.

The rare part is that attraction in the mind to a particular sex is found in that particular physical anatomy; it takes both that aspect of the mind and the shape of the body to be called gay. But if one altered the physical body of a gay man and left his mind intact, say, by the supernatural or super science, he’d not suddenly become a lesbian (No offence my lesbian friends, but I don’t understand ya ;-)); he’d still be attracted to men. His mind, the person a gay man is psychologically, is an androphile, juts like most women. His material body is another matter.

Even the term homosexual (as a noun), I think, somewhat allows the commonness of the attraction to be concealed behind the material, so as those experiencing it may more easily be ill treated. Otherwise how can you both promote and punish the consequences of the attraction at the same time, and not appear to be inconstant and harsh to people for the geometry of their inborn anatomy? It’s just much easier to vilify “homosexuals”, than “androphiles who are shaped in a certain way” :-).