Sell Out

Our first dip into activism came just before the push in the Utah legislature to put a constitutional amendment to forbid our legal marriage on the ballot. I was speaking out against a bill aiming to do the same in regular law up on capitol hill.

After that and once the push to make that bill into an amendment began, I was asked by a representative to give the opening prayer for the legislative day, as an open gay man and father. She wanted them to have to see me.

To put this in context, not many legislators came to hear my testimony... Okay, hardly any came; they didn't want to hear what they were doing to people and were seemingly content with the assessment Senator Buttars provided of gay families (or what's the term he prefers? Child abuse collectives?). He gave them all some pamphlet about what the gays do in bed. He knows, see.

I'm sure none of them wanted to be near enough to a gay man that hand shaking might become a possibility after reading that, let alone to have to consider his family in their legislation.

Anyway, so here was a chance for me to have a captive audience. They'd have to see a gay father, without warning. They'd have to know they were going to hurt someone real. They'd have to know more about our lives and concerns than they got from the paper or the news the day after they didn't show up to hear what we had to say. They'd have to see we shared some common ground.

Sure, that may be very little, but it's something. Consider that the bill passed by one vote.

I'm ashamed to admit I was tempted. I was. I thought out some justifications: "I'm not an atheist; I can say a prayer as an agnostic, can't I?" "It's no big deal. I at least know what faith feels like..." "This could soften some hearts; a prayer without faith is the lesser of two evils."

I came close, so close that that episode is something I'll keep as a constant reminder of how weak I can be. It's something to weigh me down when I start to float.

Nevertheless, I didn't do it. I called the representative and told her I couldn't do it, that it would be improper. She ended up using her turn to select an Episcopal for the person giving the prayer, straight man though.

I didn't do it because, as an agnostic pretending to speak to anyone in prayer, I would have been selling out one of my core principles, my respect for democracy and science in epistemology. I would be doing that for possible political gain. Equal treatment, sure, is another of my core principles, but I don't want it reached that way. Some sins can spoil the best blessings.

Still, I wonder to this day, what if there was just that one legislator on the brink, thinking of gay men as shallow club hoppers with no more need of marriage rights and responsibilities than the average fraternity brother. What if they never thought gay men were men of family, and dedication, that they weren't parents, parents terrified of how their government is treating their home. Could a sliver have made a difference? Probably not, but...

That brings me to yesterday. I opened the mail and found a thank you card from my representative, now running for senate. I donated to their campaign last month, just a couple years after refusing to even put up a lawn sign for them because they voted for Amendment 3. I donated not because I now like this person; I donated because I want to break the super majority the republicans have in the senate. In short, the thank you made me feel a bit dirty, unexpectedly; it made me feel like I feel when I think back to considering that prayer.

One must be careful. I have to be careful. It seems there's no greater a population, per capita, of lesser evils than in politics.

Of course I can't support the republican here, she's worse on most of the issues I care about. And at least this representative knows my disappointment, we've talked numerous times and even their campaign staff knows me by face and name (they must have some sort of malcontent constituent file?). I'm sure she can easily guess why we've donated now, and knows we're not now anti-gay rights...

Still, for some reason, I'd rather have not been told thank you; that thank you lowered my opinion of my self, just enough to sting.

Independence

We had a fine 4th of July weekend. We spend the morning at the pool. It's the same pool party I've gone to every year of my life, and it is wonderful to see the boys enjoy the games and festivities as I did. Apparently, they're completely over their fear of the diving board:
Brian even found the silver dollar in the money toss:
And Allan, he just had fun alternating between stealing my or his grandpa's hat.
That night, along with my parents and a sister, we had friends over, another pair of dads and their children. Their daughter told me she's going to marry Brian but she doesn't know why because "he's so crazy sometimes." It was so cute; they sat and watched the fireworks hand in hand.

Then Saturday we took a hike up to Lake Marry:
It was a great weekend, but for one thing. Every hiker we passed and said hi to, there was that thought in the back of my mind, "Do they also want our boys to be entitled to different parents? Are they paying their church to help annul our rights and responsibilities? Are they on board with the harm that will be done to us and many others?" Unhealthy, I know, and, for some people, unfair. I don't much like that feeling, feeling like I can't just say hi to a stranger in this town and approach and leave feeling like we've both given the other equal standing, like we've both agreed to respect each other's family, and rights. At least it's fleeting and gone as soon as a kid slips in the mud or makes an adorable observation.

Happy 4th

First, I thought this was funny. Just after I read a very nice comment from Kengo about our children being well adjusted, they came running into my office clucking like chickens and looking like this:

The timing was impeccable (if you can't tell, those are surgical gloves on their heads). Care to make a reassessment, Kengo? :-)

Anyway, I hope you all have a happy and patriotic 4th of July.

May your barbecues be heavy with meat, your soda pop glacier cold, and your potato salad free of flies. And, please, try not to set any of our great nation ablaze tonight. (Particularly those of you in California. Many more fires there, and you just know Pat Robertson will start blaming us.)

The Children

I just finished a review of the research on children raised by gays and lesbians, if the topic interests anyone. It's here:

http://isocrat.org/science/children_of_ssp/effects.php

In short, the kids are alright, and somewhat different.

As always, edits and suggestions appreciated.

Ctrl-P

A little break from the serious. I always need at least one.

A couple days ago our boys discovered the magic of Ctrl-P. To date they've gone through a small grove of trees in paper, and I've put a stop to it. It was hard though; I loved finding the little, and often mysterious notes about the house.

Here's a couple examples, punctuation and spelling intact. Maybe you can translate (each represents a paper... or more; they don't do conservation):

----------------
Brian and Alan are the best kids.

Brian likes kung fu!

Alan likes monsters!
---------------------

No way crazy Jay!!!

----------------------

[FYI, Brian manages the lives of 26 stuffed animals; they live in his closet and have many adventures]

Once upon a time... there were 26 animals!

They were so cute and cuddly! But they miss
There parents. And the fresh air.

what did they do? They went back home.

the end

---------------------

Once upon a time there were 10 mean and cuddly animals.
And 26 nice and cuddly animals! this is a show.

time: 11:00
when: tomorrow night

-----------------------

Once upon a time, There were 26 animals

they were very pore. And didn't have any food.

They met a man! He had change and food!

they were happy!

---------------------

When I Grow up I am to make a video Game!

called Wolfeys monsters Adventure!

[Wolfey is his favorite stuffed animal]

---------------------

I love you papa you are the best I love sitting by you

-------------------

See. How could I be mad? :-)

He loved sitting by me, Alan said, while at Wall-e, which I must recommend. By far the best post-apocalyptic movie I've ever seen. I think it also had the best performance by a cockroach to date.

PS You may think there's an overabundance of exclamation marks in Brian's writings, but, thinking on it, that's how he speaks, often enthusiastic :-).

A Question...

My brother, my father-in-law, and my uncle are all bishops, but in Utah. Does anyone know if they were asked to read that letter today about the marriage amendment, or was that just leadership in California? If you are in Utah, did your bishop read it?

Thanks, and don't worry. I'll not start a fight. I just feel like I need to know.

Gaynerations

Generational changes have been on my mind of late. Being a Utah (ex-)Mormon boy, of course, one cannot go too far back, on all sides of my family, before running into pioneers and polygamists. I see my last name comes from a Jacob, baptized into the LDS church in 1833. By his daughter's account he was married to 4 wives, the last 3 marriages performed by the president of his church. He was arrested for polygamy, "went through the persecution of the saints, and knew the pioneer life in its raw."

But it’s not more than a generation after those pioneering progenitors that hints of homosexuals start popping up—The man who never married and is photographed next to his mother looking much too dapper for his time and place, or the woman with no children but a number of sister wives. All that, of course, is speculation; gays were very well hidden back then. There were no gay people in the good old pioneer days, just as there are none currently residing in Iran.

The first gay man I can indirectly verify in my family has to be my great uncle Jack. Sad story, that. I’m sure I benefited for his tragedy in the way it softened my now departed grandfather, the man who baptized me; still, it’s very sad to think of the life of gay men back then. From Jack I can pick out a bunch. There are a handful of gay aunts, uncles, and cousins. Some are out and open and others are quietly gay. One still feels the need to call his partner his “business” partner in their small town. He still lives under some of the pressures that my great uncle faced, but has found a compromise that works for him. They are almost all, in that generation before me, still somewhat skittish about talking of their orientation, even though they’ve made it apparent.

And no worries, I’m not outing anyone. I’ve enough family that to say some are gay is next to saying there’s a gay man somewhere in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (not that I'm saying I know one of those too... [cue ominous minor organ chord]).

When I came out, I knew none of this, of course. I thought I was the homosexual in state of Utah. It was about a couple years after I came out to everyone when family began coming up to me to express our similarity. Some would come out somberly, with a hand on my arm, and a difficult paragraph about their experiences. Something like, “I know what you’re going through. I have cancer too.” Others just let it blurt out with a joke. One just laughed and said after dropping vague, confusing hints all day, “You didn’t think you were the only one in the family, did you?” as if I would have been egotistical enough to imagine that (Err… I did imagine that I was, though).

To the point, I'm glad they're their, as family, in my genealogy. But, as gay family, I was never given the opportunity to learn from them, until after I had my coming out trials settled and didn't need help, particularly from those still, sadly, much more closeted and scarred than I was.

Now, regarding the next generation, I am an uncle more than 30 times over and have many younger family members of other sorts. They all know I'm gay; they all know Rob and I are married, and that their cousins have two dads. And I know some of them are gay too, even if they don't, yet. Some of them are just now old enough to head off to missions, get married, and, it turns out, come to terms with their orientation.

I'll leave even gender out of this, just in case, but the first relative of that next generation has recently come out to our family. I think I imagined helping them through those tough times in a way I wasn't helped, but it didn't work out that way. They struggled on their own, and then came out to my parents, and eventually us. I was heartened to be told we were a big help, just by us being here and paving the way in the family, but still I was a bit sad they didn't think they could come to me sooner.

When I think on it more, though, I don't think I would have either, even if I knew of my gay relatives. Some fights really have to be your own, and in that state you don't really want influence as you don't really know where you should end up. At least I could be there at the finish line. They asked to join us for their first Pride festival a couple weeks ago, and they did with our whole group, which included other family, friends and some mohos. I hope it wasn't intimidating.

Anyway, where was this going? I'm not sure. Something about generations?...

Eh, I'm tired having been kept up most of last night with one of my kid's foot stubbornly pressing on my ribs... Anyway, it will be interesting how the rest of that next generation handle their orientation; the fact that they are now entering gay adulthood gives new urgency for me in my [gulp] activism. Also, I'd pay big bucks to read the genealogical accounts of my generation 200 years from now, from the perspective of our great great grandkids. I wonder if Jacob and his four wives ever imagined I, their progeny, would be thumbing through his life story... and posting about it on my blog, with my husband at home taking care of our two children?

Probably not...

Why it got to me.

Yesterday's announcement by the LDS church that members should "do all they can" to make sure our families are kept from equal rights in the California constitution upset me more than I've been upset by such in a long time. I stayed up late last night upset (Utah does need a MSDS; I wonder how much shorter my life will be for such stress :-), or maybe :-\).

I'm used to groups attacking us with that false shallow veneer of concern for my children. I'm used to them doing it with no veneer. I'm used to the LDS church doing it. True, I was hoping, based on rumor, that there would be more just treatment outside the church, or at least political hands off our families with the new leadership, and I'm sad that's not the case. Also substantially, we are about to get married there in California, after 16 years as a couple and 13 married. We've waited a long time. To have that giddy joy of feeling like you're so close and then have it mixed with what feels like a punch in the gut from an organization you once trusted and that strongly influences the minds of much of your family, well, the punch in the gut stings all the more, even if you were once used to it.

Mainly, it was the fact that we just got back from Rob's family reunion. We just spent a wonderful weekend with my in-laws in Park City. I love his family and I know the feeling is mutual, and they have come to know we belong together. They've told Rob, that they don't understand how, but through prayer they've no problem with us as a couple, even if that is contrary to what church leadership is teaching, and I'm fine with that truce.

But now we get home and find the leaders of the LDS church (the church of my in-laws and much of my family) are asking them to do all they can to legally diminish my family, to hurt us, their son, me, and their grandchildren. Their leaders are asking that of Rob's siblings too. The cousins our boys were laughing and playing with all weekend, they are also now being asked to "do all you can" to annul our upcoming legal union, to in effect harm our whole family. They are being told to view our children as somehow defective or deficient.

I hope I never learn of any of them donating financially or physically to that cause, though I know the church they give money to already has and will. They, many of our loved ones, are already funding this. It's sick, undermining to families (and demonstratively, in the real world, not merely mystically), and it is why this upset me as much as it did. I was feeling good about the people in the LDS church in my life, now I have to watch and see once again where they go from here.

It's just tough not being in your culture's predominant faith. I'm sure it always has been hard, and far worse than we have it today, from the gentile killed by Moses for collecting sticks on the sabbath to the youth from another tribe headed up the side of a volcano to "appease" a force of nature. You're told you have to be hurt or hurt another. Why? For the good of everyone else, of course. You're not selfish, right? You want the tribe to have a good crop, you don't want your city to be destroyed, or, in this case, you want to do right by some proposed supernatural fertility law. But when a person is unwilling to do such harm on faith, even when it feels good, they have a problem. What's worse for them is that faith has never meant to be verifiable anyway; it has done a lot of work over centuries to not be verifiable outside our all too potent tools of self assurance. There are centuries of effective tools of confidence in place, social proofs and so on. There are even many failsafes: "Your faith in Allah is wanning? Well you must be under the temptation of a demon then. That proves demons exist and thus faith in Allah is true." But there is no real test by which two people can surrender in equal deference to evidence.

In the end, the guy at the side of the volcano arguing that "Hey, the last ten virgins you threw in had no effect on our crop yield" isn't going to stop those with the strongest faith. That only means you need more virgins. Heck, he'd be lucky to not end up being a little extra bit of "appeasement" in the more brutal days of humanity. At least things are far from that bad. But the situation is sadly similar for the guy who doesn't hold the faith of those around him, when that faith asks that one neighbor harm another.

Nevertheless, here's to hoping my in-laws aren't or don't become as ardent of followers as to attack the family with which they just spent a wonderful weekend. I just have to hope they can somehow keep their faith and just treatment of our family too.

"Do All You Can"

http://deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,700237300,00.html

I know by my pulse rate right now that I shouldn't type much. I just don't get it. I know it's an all too common way in which groups treat each other in human history and we don't have it as bad as others who've been on the business end of such "defense of family" and "concern for children".

But it stings, to an unhealthy degree, when it's your home and your marriage in the ostensibly benevolent cross hairs, when they hope to coerce your family out of existence. There is little like that feeling that your home is being targeted, your marriage and children insulted as defective, and by an organization so close to you and entangled in so many people around you. And that couched, deceptive, double-speak language of love is near too much to take without letting my resentment for its misuse to spill oven into my siblings and so on.

But I know, I know. I'll calm down soon and start moving on again. I always do.

At least I've a couple more articles about ready. What good does that do? Probably none outside myself. It helps me feel like I've done something, even if it's on a site far from ready. Anyway, thanks for the edits on the last couple, and I'd appreciate more.

http://isocrat.org/politics/marriage/ideal_family.php
http://isocrat.org/politics/marriage/law_infertility.php
http://isocrat.org/politics/marriage/otherpairings.php

I'm headed out to play on the tramp with the boys or something similarly therapeutic.

Doing it all over again again, again

Today will occur the first legal marriages for same sex couples in California (story).

My trepidation aside, Rob, the twins, and I will be headed west in a month to join the masses hoping for a lasting chance at equal treatment. We will, in fact, be married on our 13th anniversary; the reservations are set.

I know, it makes little sense when it'll all be void once we land back in our home state of Utah. But I need to feel like I have all the legal protection I can get for my family; besides, who knows, maybe we will have to move away someday. I'll just sleep a bit better.

To that end, I've began putting up some reasons for marriage equality at isocrat.org (I know, the site is taking way too long to launch, but I just keep on thinking of new stuff I want to add in). If anyone cares to take a look, I'd appreciate an editing and I'd love additional suggestions to add to my lists.

Here's a page of reasons for same-sex marriage

and

Here's a page on statistical evidence from jurisdictions that have given such marriage rights.

Anyway, here's to hope, and wish us luck (That the law will stick, not for our marriage. I'm pretty sure I've picked the right guy after all these years :-)).

Training

Imagine you are a police officer. You're a stout intimidating guy, who works with violent criminals in a place most folks don't like to even imagine. You are as manly as all get out. Now imagine the county, la-de-da, wants you to take "cultural sensitivity training." Why? Maybe they think you're an ignorant cretin, right? You're not coddling the criminals enough? You're an evil white guy holding down everyone else, and you need "training"...

To be honest, I might think "f*beep*k that!", and show up with a chip on my shoulder, in no mood to become "sensitive."

I attended such training a couple days ago for my county's Sheriff's Department as a representative of the broader county government. There were about 50 officers and administration personnel in the session.

I entered and sat down next to three men, and broke in with some small talk. I could tell there was some resentment to having to be there, as one should anticipate. Thankfully, only the people in charge knew why I was there, and the training offered by the sheriff's office was conducted in a very diplomatic and respectful manner right from the start; no finger pointing.

Of course, the very first exercise, I was outed by my friend. She comes in her headscarf and it's clear which minority group she represents, but I, admittedly, was kind of hoping to be as unnoticeable as possible, just observe. That's why I left my hot pants at home, after all. Eh, but I love her for her openness.

It didn't seem to be an issue, though. You know how when you're outed in a crowd you'll always get a couple people who'll immediately come up to you and just say something, any little bit of small talk, to convey they are still okay with you? I do very much appreciate that friendly gesture, straight people of the world, and a couple officers did so.

I'll not go into the whole 4 hours of it. One funny thing though. In one part of the training we split into groups and were given a paper with a group name on it (e.g. Hispanics, Asians, etc.) and we were to list all the positive and negative traits of that group, stereotype or no. I was in the "Females" group with about 8 male officers. On our list, women were good because of, well, a slang word for mammary glands, and bad for often faking headaches... It was clear, I assume after being outed :-), that those weren't my contributions to the list. The whole session was conducted with light mood and focussed on building camaraderie between different groups, and I think those conducting it (who were also officer) did a great job.

A little lesson I've learned from the last couple years of politicking: the most important stuff happens after the event; never leave early. If you, say, catch your representative in the elevator after the convention, you can get more done than you would with hours at their booth during. Same goes with this event. Afterward we stayed and talked to a bunch of officers and got some good contacts and useful information.

Importantly we cleared up some misconceptions. It seems we were viewed with some suspicion when we got permission to attend. You know, we were the ultra-liberal culturally sensitive representatives of the county, there to judge their programs. And I can see why they'd think that and why that would be far from productive; I think this arena is best for those out of their element and more politically neutral. A lot more can get done when you're there to humbly help, to be a resource for them, not a bureaucratic annoyance. I made clear our purpose. They made clear that a gay inmate is just as dangerous as any other, and I agreed. I wasn't there to get special treatment for my clan; I'm aiming here for equal treatment and beyond that to help the officers better deal with inmates and their families, when those inmates fall into categories on which I may have some insight.

I did, though, find out the county is not where the problem first relayed to me is the greatest. I guess the average stay in their jail is about a month; the long terms being lived out in the state prison. So, in the county, there's not much time for relationships and pecking orders to develop. (Never thought I'd ever be learning about incarcerated culture...) It seems the state prison is where I most need to go.

Nevertheless, we will be getting more involved with the county on this issue. Though it's not a huge area for the glbt community, there are still things to be tackled. What's more, there's a lot to be done to improve relations with other groups, such as the Muslim and refugee communities. There should be a comfortable line between community leaders and the sheriff's office, to the benefit of both sides, and this administration is thankfully open to do what it can to make those connections.

I should soon take a tour of the county jail and we'll go from there. Now though, the state... Politics being what they are here, I've not a lot of pull in the state, but I'll find a way :-).

Anyway, a couple other miscellaneous things I learned:

-In Utah, state or counties, there are no conjugal visits allowed for anyone, married or no. And I thought that was standard in any prison. Curse your misinformation, television.

-Policy is, in fact, no sex should occur in prison at all. I can certainly see the reason behind that and have no problem supporting that policy. Nevertheless, sex does happen while incarcerated and I've yet to find out how far they go to try to make it as safe as possible.

-A step that is taken in the county, though, is a rape prevention task force. It's unfortunate that it's a problem in need of a task force, but I'm glad to know it's being taken very seriously. I hope to get in touch with them to learn more on the measures being implemented.

-Finally, police officers are much less intimidating when they aren't pulling you over for speeding (for the record, last time I got a ticket, I was a teen). They were a nice group to spend a morning with.

Pride 2008 Recap

Another great pride event.

We walked with Equality Utah:
Alan distributed necklaces:
Once out of necklaces (those he was willing to part with) and the parade was over, we met up with my parents, some friends, sister, a niece and nephew, and walked the booths a bit.

Finally at the arranged secret time and secret place, we met up with some of the local blogging mohos:
I should admit that I altered this group photo of our meeting slightly, to conceal our identities a bit (BYU morality police being what they are...). FYI, I'm the guy with the chaps and handlebar mustache.

Seriously, it was a pleasure to meet you, and spend the day with those already met. (Edgy, Wha happened?)

Apparently, there were many many gay LDS (or ex-LDS) there:

That's to be followed with an "on your mission" of course. Rob's flag is stuck there in South Korea.

Finally, all prided out, Brian attained enlightenment
and we went home to take a nap, before our weekly Sunday family dinner at my parent's. Good day.

I'm Going to Prision

You ever find yourself in a situation where you realize the smallest accidental push on a domino of conversation has set you on a course to something large and complicated, something you're not sure you want to, or have time to start in on? That's often me in my volunteer life.

I've become involved in minority issues in Utah over the last four years by such happy, if not intimidating, accidents. Near all of my work in this area has nothing to do with the GLBT community, but I'm sure what pulls me to it comes from my experiences as a gay man, an outsider in my community. In all, through there's been some difficulty and sadness for it, it's been a wonderful experience with people from everything from our refugee to our Latino community.

What has me feeling some trepidation is now focusing on my community. In a meeting with a representative from the state department of human services regarding primarily ethnic diversity issues, the guy just casually mentioned they are having trouble figuring out how to deal with gays and lesbians in prison. He said they are seeing an increase in out gays in prison, and there are issues of harassment, abuse, and, well, sex. Both the state and county are looking for help in finding ways to better deal with incarcerated gays.

So, I'm no expert in any of that, but here I am, in a unqualified place and at an unqualified time, and I'm taking up the issue. Next week I'll be taking the diversity training they give each year in the sheriff's department. I'll be doing this with a lesbian and a Muslim friend, along with a large group of your traditional Utah police officers... sit-com hilarity may ensue.

This part of the consequences of that conversation is fine by me. I want to make sure that, say, if officers come to a home like ours, after one parent is killed or made unconscious by an intruder, they know not to take the kids from their remaining dad because "children can't have two dads." I'm happy to help officers know we're out there and am glad to have the opportunity to make suggestions on their training in that regard. Still, it'll certainly be an interesting day.

Where I pause is prison. What do I say on this topic, when we give our recommendations? I'll admit I've a hard time caring about the rights of some people, particularly after some crimes. Maybe I even feel harsher for "my people" who act criminally, because I know how they hurt, along with their victims, my family in the minds of others by association.

Still, I think I've come to some conclusions, but I'm wondering what you all think.

What should be the treatment of gay people in prison? Straight inmates get conjugal visits from spouses. What should gay couples get, when one is incarcerated and the other not? Do they get to couple up with other inmates? Select their lover as a cell mate? Are they allowed to have sex at all? Even if they are disallowed, and rightly, the most basic freedoms of self-determination?

If they can have sex, how do STD's factor in? I mean, these are already men who've prooven themselves to be selfish and amoral in some blatant manner; what does the state do to be sure they are responsible with sex?

Finally, what about harassment? Gay men are being beaten in prison for being gay. Oddly, some gay men will even get raped by the straight inmates. Go figure. How to combat that? I doubt many people would near suggest a gay guy in for tax evasion should have something like rape or beatings added to their punishment, right? If this is such a large problem, should there be, say, a separate gay cell block? (And will Ang Lee have rights to the script?).

Commercial

This message has been brought to you by the Moab City Utah Tourism Department that is UtahCog.blogspot.com. The kids just got out of school and it's so nice to just get away, spur of the moment, recharge and such.

Out of curiosity, anyone know where this secret hiking spot may be?


It's one of the boys' favorites.

(Also, if you'll be getting together with a bunch of us on Sunday, you should have received an email by now. If I missed anyone, let me know.)

MoHos @ Utah Pride 2008

Next week is the Utah Pride Festival.

Until about 5 years ago, I'd not been to our pride festival, thinking it would not be my cup of tea. To be honest, I thought the worst of it; and probably can guess what most in Utah think. But it's actually quite a nice event, and family friendly too, with only the need to avert your eyes (or gawk) a couple times, not unlike our state fair :-). We spend most our time in the kid's area getting our faces painted and watching the performers. They had a magician last year that had Brian in stitches. It's just nice to be in a place where you can relax, touch your husband on the shoulder without second guessing the mob around you, and feel a sense of community, a sense that is often taken away from gay men and women in Utah.

Anyway, the events calendar is here.

On Sunday, just between the "Destroying Your Neighbor's Marriage in 5 E-Z Steps" seminar, and the "Are You Rebelling Against the One True God(TM) to Your Full Potential?" workshop will be a parade, maybe even a "fabulous" parade. We'll be there, along with the grandparents and maybe an aunt and cousin or two.

After the parade, I was wondering if anyone from the blogs would like to get together, put face to font. If so send off an email and we'll try to set up a tiny MoHo blog convention. If you have trouble finding me, I'll be the guy in the high cut daisy dukes with a pink T-shirt tied in a knot in front. If that's too vague, just shout my name. And no worries, if you stick near us, I can use my secret gay code signals to keep the roving bands of leather men from carrying you away (unless that's your sort of thing... in which case, though, I doubt you're reading this :-)).

Another One

I'm feeling a bit down, but not near as down as some of my friends and family.

I spent yesterday at a family member's home. Her husband just decided to leave her for reasons that were not made clear, but, whatever it was, I'm sure she did not break her vows. It was sudden and apparently unexpected by everyone but her husband.

I tried to comfort her, and tried to keep some of the older member of our family from upsetting her even more; you know how old folks sometime lose that censor in their head. As I was cleaning her home I kept coming across photos of them, happy at their wedding. Our boys were the ring bearers that day. And now what?

How the hell does this happen? I'm beginning to feel a compulsive need to know what my education on the subject (read: movies, books, and television) doesn't seem to answer. Have you ever just fallen out of love? Do you know how other people fall out of love? Is it that, as I pondered long ago, that couples get too comfortable? Something else? I have to think it takes more effort than falling, but is that wrong? Does it really just happen, as though it's like some change in the seasons?

With such a huge family, and the national statistics on divorce the way they are, I really don't know near my fair share of failed marriages, and should count that as fortunate. But still, these latest couple of separations, happening so close to each other, it gets that "fix it" loop running obsessively through my mind, and yet, for the thought, I feel so ineffective in the face of it.

They Were Just Snapshots

It's easy to forget--maybe even preferable--what it was like to be that kid, coming to terms with his orientation. I was that kid, now, about two decades ago.

This was the closest picture I could find to the time; me at 15:Sure, I may look gay then; just keep in mind it was the 80's.

Some explanation: It's nearing my parents' birthdays, and the boys were coloring them each a picture. They are adorable works of art, of course: Alan fishing with grandpa, Brian in a field with grandma near a very short rainbow, and so on. When they finished, we decided to look for a frame in our cupboard of memorabilia and I came across a clear reminder of those bleak days.

A stagnant stream; I can remember this exact moment. I took this picture in the undeveloped lands just behind my childhood home. I remember walking to this stream, each step counting off a "This isn't happening; I'm not attracted to men", as if the more I reran that fiction in my head the more it would be true. I was completely alone, knew no other gay person, and I was a melodramatic mess, so much so that it's kind of funny to me to think of it today.

Once it hit me that I'd come out of puberty unlike any other kid I knew, I spent most of my free time in places I knew I'd not see another person. I'd walk for hours though the fields and mountains trying to distract myself with photography. But by the tone of the pictures, I apparently didn't escape the mood:
a foreboding dead tree...

Ruins...Is it just me projecting, or is that mood almost too on the nose :-).

Oy, and after the melancholy photography, then there was the angry industrial music.

I guess the stages of grief are supposed to be:

1. Denial.
2. Anger.
3. Bargaining.
4. Depression.
5. Acceptance.

I kind of went 1, 4, 3, 2, and then 5.

I began composing some very angry music, aping bands like NIN. I hated myself; I hated the way I was treated by my local culture; I wanted out. Hard to believe, but it really is a bit amusing in retrospect, to look back on such fury. My intractable problem was merely a period of work. My doomed soul and bleak looming future was just a phantom. My parents, who, to my great shame, I was sure would not love me if they knew me, were still my parents. In my defense, I didn't know what it was like to love as a parent back then, but still...

I wasted years being either sad or angry, years most people look back on with fondness. Young gay men of the world, don't do the same. It may seem impossible, but there is a way through. You may think you've lost something in your familial future, but it will be there when you're ready and all the more precious. You may have been cheated and lied to by leaders you thought you could trust and a culture of which you thought you were a part, but nearly no human leaves their life without hurting a person they imagined they were helping. The intent isn't there and the anger does nothing to help you find peace or help them find what's right. I know it's hard to let it go, and you really shouldn't in full; indignation can get some things done. But when it has nothing to get done, when you feel it when you are alone, late at night, it'll just eat at you.

I'm glad to have to work to remember those days.

Anyway, I took those pictures out of their frames. I scanned them into my digital life record, and there they'll sit, on my hard drive. The frames will be given to my parents on their birthdays, with the drawings my children made for them enclosed. Sure, I love it when the poetry of the universe is subtle and complicated, but I don't mind when it's blatant, cheesy, and sentimental either; not at all.

Vegas

Being agnostic, I do not, of course, believe in life after love. I did, however, survive the Cher concert, perhaps just a bit more gay now than I was yesterday.

And oh my gosh! She changed her clothes like 17 times (or so Rob tells me ;-)). She must have a crack team of ex-special ops (who were dishonorably discharged) behind the sceans forcing her through the fabric, rhinestones, and wigs (what little there was of covering fabric, though). For a nearly naked woman, she sure does get a lot of gay attention.

Ah, and Rob enjoyed it. That's what is important, more important than my Vegas-phobia and dislike for the music. I will say this: of them all, all the gay icons, I think Cher is one of the best. At least she has a noticeable sense of humor about it all. She pulls off unabashed without coming off as insufferably pretentious, and can joke about being a 62 year-old woman in a glittery thong. I can respect that.

And at least I got to see the human body exhibit (alas, Switch, no star trek but there's no way I'd get Rob into a uniform :-)). The exhibit was wonderfully interesting, and a bit creepy. I've describe, in part, my views on what's to be respected in human life, in a human body. This exhibit though felt like a bit of like walking under a ladder: there's nothing wrong with displaying the human body for education, but it still falls in a realm that's ripe with superstition. Still, glad we went.

Room Mom

Cher fanboy aside, we just found out that Rob has been given a new title, one we can both agree upon. He was just selected to be the "Room Mom" for our boy's first grade class.

I take it he's the first male to hold this position, as they apparently don't have any description of the responsibilities that doesn't call him mom :-).

He'll be helping at the school quite a bit next year, be a liaison between the teacher and parents, and be responsible to show new parents the ropes of the school. We very much appreciated our Room Mom and I'm sure he'll be great at it too [Scot says as he finishes off one of Rob's amazing sugar cookies].

Is it odd that such still surprises me? That it's something I find worthy of mention even? The degree to which our family structure isn't an issue in our personal circle of friends and acquaintances, in a state where, just outside that circle, are a good number of legislators, religious leaders, and activists saying and doings some horrible things to gay people... don't get me wrong, I'm happy for it, but it is kind of strange, no?

The teachers, administrators, parents, and area of the school are predominately LDS and the school's guiding philosophy, in general, is conservative (actually a reason we choose it, as I loved my schooling in a local Christian elementary school). But there just hasn't been a single problem, and I know I've made this same post before, but who would have predicted that ten years ago, let alone at our boy's birth? Should I keep being pleasantly surprised?

Rob will be the Room Mom without a bump, our kids are getting along great there, and all the parents have been wonderful; some have even become friends close enough that we socialize at each other's homes, outside of birthdays and play dates :-). At the last parent teacher's conference, in fact, Brian's teacher even went out of her way to tell us she wanted us to know that she thought we had given our boys a "superb home environment." This is from a woman who takes on faith (or who is supposed to anyway) that we are a sub par, non-ideal family, particularly for children (if she is even supposed to use the word family for us; is she?).

I'm just happy, glad to keep on bracing for something that might not come, and proud of our "room mom." Right now he's with the class at the zoo, but when we're all home I'll be sure to tell him that.

(I wonder if the boys will like having a parent there so much? They can't then get away with anything that won't follow them home :-))

The Perils of Marrying a Gay Man

I should have known this day would come. I have, for well over a decade, avoided a Madonna concert. I have never seen, in real life, a "Diva" of any sort, save for the time I, by pure accident, was sat next to Liza Minelly at a Broadway show, which I was coerced into attending (Aside, at the same show I used the restroom next to the guy from NYPD Blue, Denise Franz? The guy didn't seem to have the slightest grasp of the urinal selection rules most courteous men know by heart; uncomfortable...).

Point is, my personal aesthetic sense has dodged some ugly bullets over the years, despite being gay.

But then, last year, Rob found out that Cher would be putting on a show in Vegas. It was so long ago! Past-me didn't put up much of a fight and now present-me is about to pay the bejeweled, feathery, leather-thong-wearing price. We will soon be headed to Vegas, like a couple of gay salmon spawning our way down Interstate-15 to be with our kin.

Curse you, past-me!

It really is a cruel joke the universe has played on me, to make me gay and then alienate my aesthetic sense from the gay aesthetic, from my gay brothers, and worse, from my husband. Thank goodness there are blogs on which to vent. This is Rob's B-Day present, and thus I can't complain to him... much.

Oy, and Vegas. You got to watch yourself in that town. The sight of little old ladies shoving their pensions down a machine that any one who's as much as taken day-one of an undergrad statistics course knows is no more than a collection plate for a faith that can't even get inspiration right... Well, Mammon would blush at the sights in some of those casinos, and it can bring you down.

Anyway, wish me luck, and I hope one of us has your sympathies; one of us deserves them. Hey, is there still a Star Trek attraction in one of those casinos? Not that I'm that nerdy or would force Rob into it, no... but you know, in case we have some extra time...



Errr.

How I Got My Name

I kind of use this blog as a place to keep a record of things, just in case they get lost in memory or physical record, with time. I just realized, after that last post, I never explained how I got my name.

Here, I posted on how we determined our family name. Just after that, though, we had to figure out what our boys would call us. They would soon be on their way home.

Again, being a relatively new sort of family in these parts, there was little to go on. Both Rob and I call our fathers "dad" and our mothers "mom," but neither of us was really wanted that last title ;-).

It turned out a tradition had already been established for our families. Where there are two fathers, one was most often "daddy" and the other "papa". The poor lesbians often have to rely of the subtle inflections their child puts into the word "mom" but you'd be surprised how accurately those mother's ears can discern between the two words, "mom" and "mom".

To tell the truth, I didn't like "papa" at first; it felt unfamiliar, kind of old world ("father" was right out). We both wanted "dad" and some gay couples do both take the title, but we thought the name should be different.

So who gets "dad"? Rob had just taken my family name... I was in no position to debate ;-)

It was one of those things that was cleared up in a moment. I was in the car (driving on 94th south in fact :-)) listening to This American Life and a family was the subject; I can't remember why. In the program, a son was talking to his father. He never referred to him as "dad"; he called him "pop." I can't even remember the topic of the program or what they were talking about. I just remember sensing in his voice that very familiar relationship, the love that son felt for his father; I knew the same for in the man I called my "dad".

Suddenly, just like that, "papa" (or "pop" when they get older and stop calling Rob "daddy") felt right. It felt perfect. I'd not be a "dad". I am, in fact such a mixture of my parents' personalities, I was suddenly sure that I should take on "papa". Today, our boys will even correct people when they assume they have two "dads"; to them a dad and a papa are very different parents. Anyway, I called Rob and surrendered "dad" immediately :-).

And that's what I am now and I can't imagine being anything but a "papa". That name comes before my given name, before "son", before any professional title. As we both agree, it even comes before "husband". It's hard to believe the word that has become my defining title once sounded a bit unfamiliar.

Easy Math

[(Thousands of diapers) + (Months of lost sleep) + (Peeing the bed) + (Peeing our bed) + (Catching throwup in my shirt at Costco) + (Cleaning the same off multiple restauant floors) + (All the wiping, in fact) + (The two times you put a sharpie to use on the walls) + (The fact I just had to spend a couple hundred on a new printer because my last one fell to it's death as you were climbing on the desk, after I had told you many times not to...) + (And anything else that'll come our way)]/x as x-->0

<<

+

I got these out of the blue over the weekend, the first from Brian, the second from Alan.

Boy, kids know how to make parenting easy, don't they?

(That last one was made by Alan at school and it said on the cover "In Papa's arms, I feel safe." You just can't imagine how profoundly your children will grab you, before they do just that. And I also love that he gave me so much hair ;-))

Wish I Could Celebrate

As we all now know by now, California has allowed marriage rights for families headed by same-sex couples, or, more accurately, is scheduled to in 30 days.

I'm waiting for the counter attack, rather than celebrating. A couple things on the mind:

1. In November CA will vote on amending their constitution to take away the equal rights protection that caused this ruling. IIRC, the amendment would also take away domestic partner benefits, something gays in Ca already have. This could be one step forward, two steps back.

2. If only the Governator had signed the bill passed by the majority of the legislator allowing marriage... That way it would more have the people's stamp of approval, than a court ruling. You want people to do right, but you also want people to want to do right. Darn you Arnold. I'm happy you support it now, but you had an historic opportunity.

3. And the court, and it's close decision... I can hear the cackle of "activist judges," rallying the opposition to the polls. In the Ca Constitution it says you must treat people equally, and that means you can't take or keep rights and responsibilities from me, my husband, or our children, just because one of us has a particular anatomy. The judges don't just make this stuff up. It's there in law; put there by the people, even if they didn't understand the, IMHO laudable, ramifications of the ideal of equal treatment under the law.

4. Time is of the essence. In the paper an opponent says, arguing to wait until the voters vote, it does no one good "for anyone" to have legal marriage for our families for a couple months, when the whole thing could be overturned. Liar. They know. They know as soon as the first gay couple takes their family to the court house and finally gets legal equality for the people in their home, and people see the sky didn't fall over Hollywood, they know that will take away a lot of their anti-gay numbers. They don't want the people to vote after they see what they are voting on. They want them to vote on fear, knowing their issue will slowly die as it did with the Ma drive to amend their constitution after equal rights were given.

Anyway, a couple random thoughts.

Maybe I can celebrate in December. That's all I'll ask for from Santa.

How Can That End?

A friend of mine is getting divorced, my best friend. I was his best man. I stood beside him, vouched for him, and, by extension, pledged my support to their family. And I'm glad I did, don't get me wrong; he's a good man.

He wants it to work, but his wife became fed up with being married and wants to strike out on her own, having never been single. While, in this case, my loyalties and sympathies are with my buddy, I consider her a friend too, and so this is a bit of an awkward situation for a couple reasons, though certainly not strange enough to the general public.

As I've written before, I have been a divorce bigot; I've lightened up. Just the word, though, is still sounded in my mind with an uncomfortable hiss. I really still don't know how best to address the topic, but I do understand that there are situations where it really is the best option, best of all the tough options for those involved.

This family, though, they've a boy a couple years younger than ours and it's difficult to think of the time with your child being divvied up. It's one of those those things I'm sure you can live through and manage, I hope to never know how.

And that's just it. I don't get it the whole of it. I don't think I'll come to know. I literally can't imagine it.

No one will (should?) believe this and when I've stated it in mixed crowds I've been met with a good deal of skepticism, but Rob and I simply don't fight, ever ; never have. Neither of us has even once raised our voices to the other. Sure, we have a notable disagreement about something, probably once a year, but the last time it went past a couple hours or either of us went to bed upset was in our pre-San Diego days, about 9 years ago.

I'm not sure why we don't, but know most people think we're exaggerating when the topic comes up. To be clear, I certainly don't credit it to being "true to my orientation" or anything; plenty of gay couples fight. We're just both very easygoing people. Also, if their's one bit of advice I'd give a young couple it's be to be constantly at the ready to surrender. If there's one person in this world you can't lose to, it's your spouse. A disagreement should be like a deliberation between two interests of a single mind.

Furthermore, I have literally never thought about leaving him other than the thought it takes to write such a sentence as this. In fact it sounds absolutely absurd, like leaving a limb behind. We've grown so much together and are so much in the other's head that there's practically, by any definition of a mind, no me without him. Without him, I imagine my self to be some sort of stranger, one I don't much care to know, and one I'd gladly want punished if I were the guy to split us up (a reasons I want divorce law applicable to us, to hurt that possible jerk :-)).

Yet I did everything wrong, according to the notion that's causing this particular divorce. I coupled up in my teens; I married at 21. I never played the field, or "got it out of my system." I've not so much as meant to kiss another man. I've never been alone, and have always been accountable to someone (and now 3 of them! though 2 mainly care that I play with them and tuck them in at night). I can barely remember back to 17 to remember what being single is like. But it's not recalled fondly. What would someone want with that? Am I really missing that something this idea of being on your own provides?

I really think most all humans naturally need to pair up; I think that is our best, most happy and productive form. But is it just a broad and wrong generalization that the cog is the goal ;-)? And what happens to change people's minds on this? It scares me to death, that the person you love and vow to be at their side as long as you exist just ups and leaves. It's like the scene in every zombie movie, the one that creeps me out the most, where the loved-one is suddenly turned into a mindless killing machine against their girlfriend, father, or what have you (though, maybe, a bit less dramatic). The familiar and loved turned into a source of torment...

Scary stuff.

The Neighborhood

Remember the good old days around these parts, oh, about a year and a half ago?

I miss Sean, GBUYS, Cas., and more. What about Chris, L, Fox, and GayLDSActor; remember when they actually posted at least once a week, not the current once every blue moon?

Don’t get me wrong; I’m very glad to meet and read new folks. It was just a simpler time, a smaller, cozier space back then, right? And I think I get it; I’m not saying people should stick around. Most people aren’t blogging for my aims; many are there to document a process and once it’s over or once blogging gets in the way of that process, they are rightly off.

Also, I fear I had some prophetic vision in my joking, when the first significant cracks appeared, with the great MoHo-HoMo debate of aught-7. It seems more people moved in than could keep a social network intact where folks were familiar with each other, familiar enough to not vilify and to keep giving the benefit of the doubt. Camps formed, some were shunned, others got fed up. There was some yelling, outings, threats, insults made with those familiar, polite surfaces (Say what you will, but we here in Utah know how to do the passive aggressive insult with great skill, don’t we? ;-)).

And, heck, I know I can be part of the same problem. I’ve been reading but not commenting or posting much lately. I’ve been busy with isocrat.org, and that’ll just make this area feel less like a neighborhood, to me.

Also, I try to be friendly and hope I have been. I know, though, that there’s always a point of indignation in me for anyone who admits to wanting to keep my family from legal equality, or insults my marriage or home, no matter how they might couch such to sound civil, or what their good intentions are. If it were just an academic argument, I think I’m pretty good at keeping feelings out of it, but I know when it’s my family, I have to watch it too, to hate the sin and not the sinner. I mean, it's my family. I’m sure that frustration has seeped out from me at times; perhaps it just did ;-).

Eh, of course, I don’t think anything will change back; I was just feeling nostalgic. Am I the only one?

On the other hand, you know, gays are renowned for their preternatural gentrification abilities, even in some of the worst neighborhoods :-)…

Rhubarb Sorbet

If you've been reading this blog for long, you'll know I tend to feel like I have to follow difficult and ugly topics with some sort of pallet cleanser. This be one of those.

Isn't rhubarb neat:

Not as neat as it will be once it's future place in a strawberry rhubarb pie is realized, of course, but look at that structure.

Speaking of which, we have a mystery that perhaps gay Mormon men would be best qualified to solve. Here's our garden:

We've already planted and so maybe it's too late. Nevertheless, last year, everything outside of the planter boxes did great, from the strawberries to the grapes (the pumpkins, not so much, but that was due to Allan's "help" weeding the garden). Everything in the planters, though, did terribly. We got hollow radishes (hollow!), the tomatoes produced next to nothing and what was produced was bland, and the carrots were tiny. The soil (top soil, unlike the sandy stuff outside the boxes) was put in two years ago and fertilized by cattle. Is it possible that we fertilized it too much? And if so, how would we correct that next year, if the same happens?

Another problem: after last Tuesday's TV, there's begun an ugly rift in our home. I'm not sure how, but we've, for the first time, got pulled into American Idol. Mia Culpa, may Thom York forgive me. And, yes, I know it's wrong, yet I still watch. I know it's wrong because that evil show has split our family apart, with Rob and Brian firmly in the David A. camp, and Allan and I in the David C. camp. I'll not confront Rob; he makes our dinner. Instead, Allan and I are working on Brian, but he won't see past the fact that we are remotely related to David A. David C. is just so much more creative and, let's face it, cool.

Yeah, I said it. Bring it on.

Anyway, uh... Hey, my hand is getting much better:

I'm not sure how happy I'll be with it. The doctor (pre-surgery) told me that I should experience immediate relief, as "95% of his patients" have. It is better now, the numbness is gone, but it still gets annoyingly uncomfortable at long use and it was not near "immediate relief". The doctor (post-surgery) now tells me that I should expect to wait 9 months to get the full benefit. Pff, doctors...

Is There an Elephant in This Room?

...and if so, how do I kill it?

As an undergrad I took a couple women studies courses to fulfill the “well rounded” requirement of the university; you know, so that mathematicians may be tortured with art history and poets with chemistry.

One day the topic of gender stereotypes was brought up and I outed myself as a gay man in order to address what I’d experienced. At that a discussion broke out during which one girl became notably hostile to the “homosexual agenda.” The teacher eventually asked her how her perception of me had changed, and one question she asked the girl was if she’d be worried if I and her brother became friends now.

At the time I thought it was a really bizarre question for the teacher to ask. Worried? About what? The conclusion I jumped to was that her fear may be that her brother may want to switch teams in order to date me (I was quite handsome at 19 ;-)). With that error in mind, I said she need not worry a bit; I was faithful to my boyfriend (and always have been :-)).

But, as the conversation progressed it became clear this teacher personally knew this particular girl, and knew her brother wasn’t some bi-curious college student, one gay friend away from forsaking football for Musical Theater, as I’d assumed. He was just a child in his early teens. As impossible as it sounds to me now, the teacher was actually asking, in class, one student if she’d be afraid another student would violate, in such a terrible way, a child, and the answer was yes!

This was the first time I’d ever got wind of the notion that, to a substantial number of people, being gay is associated with pedophilia. Heck, this was one of the first times I even heard of the notion of pedophilia. Today it seems it’s all too often mentioned in the news, but back then I was somehow able to remain blissfully ignorant.

And my response in this situation was: “Oh don’t worry about me, I’m taken”…

Ugg, I still cringe. I was both shocked and mortified once I realized the age of her brother and how I must have just enforced that bigoted girl’s bias. I never got a chance to explain, but how would I? I’m still really hesitant to even address this topic here.

Anyway, I was happily naive about many of the horrors of this world well into my teens, and here I was being associated with one of the worst. It left a lasting impression.

I started to wonder: this girl was from the LDS culture and that clearly misinformed her views on homosexuality… most of my siblings are LDS… Do my siblings make the same association? Do they now see me as a threat to my nephews and nieces? How many people in my world think like that? It made me sick to realize this possibility, that any person might now wonder about, let alone do, such a horrible thing.

To this day I’ve no answer to those questions. It’s nothing to bring up or clear up in most any situation (and yet here I am asking). It’s just a horrible lingering question now. On anti-gay sites I see the association between homosexuality and pedophilia made often; I know it’s still out there, but how common is it? How close is it to our home? Is it in my cousins? In our neighbors? Is it going to hurt our children, when the age comes for stuff like sleepovers?

If so, how to I protect them and insulate them from it? How do I fix it?

Anti-gay folks are clever. To even breach such a disgusting topic is disturbing. The elephant they’ve placed in this room is hardly ever going to be mentioned by the person holding the prejudice; it’s just a silent fear on both sides, pushing both sides apart.

I mean, I directly know being gay has nothing to do with that desire to harm children in such an unmentionable way, but I also know most parents, just like me, would not gamble with such a thing, even when they know they're being unreasonable (e.g. the fort post…). So what if this girl, from that women’s studies course, now has a child in our boy’s school. How can I keep her bias from hurting our children, when it seems impossible to now know if its even still there, and, if it is, bringing it up could make it even worse?

I'd also like to know if I'm being paranoid from such experiences and reading so much anti-gay literature? Does this bias still exist in substantial numbers? Does the younger gay generation encounter such views in as casual of settings as a classroom? Do they now experience more subtle displays than what I experienced?

I know it's an ugly topic, but how does the unspeakable get resolved? How would you even know if it already has been?

Guess What I Did Yesterday

By my fancy look, did I:
A) Buy a new slimming black dress and matching hat for the summer cocktail circuit.
B) Founded the first Gay-Straight Alliance at Hogworts.
C) Sacrificed a chicken to Olofi.
D) Joined a cult
or
E) Finally went through my graduation ceremony.

That's right, D, joined a cult. Nothing serious, our only tenants being to promise to be able to recite from memory numbers like 35.453 and boor people to tears at discussion of our work.

You can't see it in the picture but that hood is really odd, with, like, a big cloth spike on top.

Anyway, though I got my doctorate last semester, they only do the ceremony once a year, and yesterday was my turn. I don't usually care much for ceremony, save for when it comes to family; it often just strikes me as silly. And don't get me wrong, being be-hooded and wearing robes with stripes was comical too; I felt like I should have brought one of the boys' light sabers. But I can see the reason in it; I was glad to have our boys witness the event:
and I can't say I wasn't hit by emotion when my adviser, now colleague, attached that hood to my back. He was a great adviser and is now a good friend:
That is at the celebratory dinner we had afterwards. Almost everybody there was asking me how it feels to be Dr. Lastname, and to be honest it doesn't feel any different. I'm just relieved; that and I now have a lot less respect for doctors. I mean, even I, knowing all my weaknesses and sure there are some I ignore, even I got one of those dr's :-).

The party was just with my closest family and friends, all of whom I've had since my early teens. I know I've been lucky, greatly blessed in the area of friends and family. I don't imagine most people as adults are as close with their teenage buddies, and it's wonderful to have people in your life who know you so well, people you know have your back and with whom you can't remember the last misunderstanding.

Funny though to notice last night how our parties now have an atmosphere more like a Chuck-e-Cheese than the Frat House atmosphere of our teens. We almost all have children now, and the only friend who doesn't is like an uncle (oddly though ours boys are the oldest of the kids; the gay guy of the group had children before all the others :-)). Ah, good times...