Two Good Legs To Stand On

With each step, each rising or lowing from a chair, her face showed the depth of her pain.  Over the past two years I watched my love's body bend to the arthritis that was overtaking her knees.   She withstood injections and stomached potent pills, but the pain increased.  By last fall her legs began to bow, an inch in height robbed from her.  She knew action, dramatic action, must be taken.

Four weeks ago I watched her take a huge, brave step...with faith and hope that the next and the next and the next would lead to repair and relief.  My Mo hobbled into Hackensack Medical Center for double-knee replacement surgery.  I watched the doctor mark in ballpoint pen on both of her legs just before they wheeled her down the hall, away from me.  I didn't breath very well until I saw her five hours later, in the recovery room enveloped in bubble wrap and blankets to keep her warm. Two short days later, with three IVs in her arms, bandages, ice packs, leg braces and every drug known to human kind, she was walking....walking!  They were tentative first steps, but ones we knew would lead to less and less pain.

It's a roller coaster ride to face a dramatic step that doesn't bring a guarantee of perfect results.  It takes the kind of faith I've always admired in my Mo.  Don't get me wrong, she isn't sitting around waiting for the fates and angels to magically mend her bones, muscles and tendons.  With strength of body, soul and mind she tackles the excruciating exercises; patiently applies bone-chilling ice to her sores; puts up with my over-protectiveness and pleas for "little steps, little steps!"

Once again I step back and watch in awe the courageous woman I love as she not only overcomes adversity, but brings it to its knees!

I Want a Marriage License!

This August Maureen and I will celebrate our 39th anniversary together.  

I want a marriage license!

When we first met, the folks that argued (sometimes quiet loudly in our face) against our relationship even existing, let alone our desire for legal protections and social recognition, based their objections on the falsehood that gay/lesbian people didn’t want to be in life-long relationships.  According to them, we just wanted to sleep around and never settle down to a family life - the backbone of the American society.  They professed they "knew what our kind was" and no real-life proof of who we actually were was ever going to be heard or believed.

But still I wanted a marriage license!

Almost four decades later, the flaming has shifted, but the intensity remains, thanks to the over-eager few.  The most negatively enthusiastic are those who want to impose their personal religious affiliation’s beliefs on my civil rights.  If one argument begins to lose weight with the general public (“Gay marriage will destroy our world”) then another is crowd-tested (“We don’t hate the sinner, just the sin!”). 

And so, still no marriage license for us!

A recent tactic is to say we’re redefining marriage, and that has never happened before (a lie).  Also, marriage is for couples to have children.  Of course, that one doesn’t even begin to hold water since there are lots of opposite-gender couples who choose not to have children; who are not physically able to procreate; who perhaps use alternate methods of procreation available to same-gender couples, and on and on.  My widowed grandmother married Hebbie on her 69^th birthday – a wonderful match.  According to the lame procreation argument, they shouldn’t have been allowed to get married!  

But they got a marriage license, and I still can’t!

What else have we heard?

“Activist judges (any judge that disagrees with their position) shouldn’t decide the constitutionality of marriage laws.  It should be up to the legislature.”

“Legislatures shouldn’t make laws about marriage rights.  It should be up to the voters.”

“Voters shouldn’t have a say in who can get married.  It should be up to my religious organization!”

The rules keep shifting.  And still I can’t get a marriage license!

The most recent rant:  marriage is a religious institution and the government should stay out of it.  By that argument I would have been married in my church years ago!  

Look…I want a marriage license.  A civil marriage license so I and my love, with whom I have lived through good times and bad, through sickness and health, who has stood by me and I by her the way any life-long committed couple does, will have the legal rights and protections afforded by the American federal government and each of the individual 50 States, of these United States.

I don’t want every person in America to love me.  I don’t want every person in America to celebrate and be overjoyed that I am so blessed to have the most wonderful woman in the world love me and want to be married to me.  I don’t want every religious institution in our republic to embrace our love and commitment.

I just want a marriage license!!!

May I, Please and Thank You

Manners.  One word with so much attached to it.

Between my parents and my kindergarten teacher I learned the basics and nuances of good behavior that have served me well both personally and professionally.  I remember:  play nicely with others; wait your turn; treat others they way you would want them to treat you.  But most importantly:  remember to say "May I, Please and Thank you."

It all seems so simple, yet so difficult for some, for reasons I can not comprehend.  It shouldn't be a 'stand-out' in our minds when we experience good manners, but how often do we find ourselves commenting when we are treated properly?  And how often are we pushed to the brink (or even over it) when we are faced with rudeness?

Some would say "lead by example."  (A true Emily Post...oh, how I date myself, response.)  But I have to admit, I think that is overly optimistic.  Others might call for action by providing corrective instruction.  But that might lead to negative physical repercussions.

May I ask if anyone has the answer?  If so, please share with me.  Oh, and "Thank you!"

March 4th

It's not just a date, it's a call to action.

Silly things stick with me.  When I was little, someone brought to my attention the fact that "March 4th" was a unique date in our calendar year.  It was the only day of the year to tell you to do something.  It stuck with me.

Every March 4th I remember and my step is just a little bit more brisk and my head a little higher as I walk from place to place.  Silly...of course.  But life really needs the whimsy, don't you think?

So tomorrow...March 4th.  It'll bring a smile to your step.