Designed by the fabulous Shepard Fairey, who also designed the amazing Obama campaign image, this magnificent poster was revealed today. His Defend Equality image is forthright, powerful, begs no sympathy for our cause but rather calls all Gay men and women to action. A great work of art is offered us here - find your pride and use it for positive action and change!

Dawn

The sun is just rising over the mountains bordering the Tonto National Forest; which runs along our property line. The amazing wealth of wildlife is stirring, the numerous species of birds are all a twitter and seem to be singing in praise of the morning. I sit at my desk in the living room and warm my toes before the dancing flames of the fireplace. It is quiet. Mark is still asleep. The cats have been fed their breakfast. It is the perfect time of day!

Discrimination Enshrined

It is a sad day in our household for Prop 8 passed in California. I stayed in bed all of Wednesday, because even with Obama being elected, and that is a great joy, my feelings are just crushed. Some speculate that it was the religious Black Vote which swung the anti-gay amendment into place, a fundamentalist community within which it is still not OK to be Out and Gay. They are very pro-Obama but very anti-Gay. Others say it was the Latino vote, for much the same reasons. Personally, I blame, at least in part, Obama himself, who refused to loudly decry the amendment during his campaign. His statements against prop 8 were made only quietly and to venues in which he already knew there was support for same sex marriage. (i.e. his interview to young voters via MTV).

Whatever the reason for its win Prop 8 it is a dismal gut wrenching blemish on the fair State of California, a State which is usualy renowned for its liberalism and insight of social issues. We have immediately filed suit, of course, to prevent the amendment from taking force. Will our court battle succeed? I do not know. But I am not giving up the fight. I believe whole heartedly that even should it take root for now, it will eventually be torn from enshrinement not only in the California Cobstitution but that of all the States as well. America is on a new path with new leadership and eventually it will be seen that such blatant discrimination against a whole segment of American society cannot and will not be tolerated for the long term. 

Potted

Mark and I have beed sharing some gardening. It's been a great way to spend time together. Mark is a pro with the drip system, and keeps all our green friends from being thristy, I do my best to make them look their best. We're especially excited about the lavendar plants we bought - they were just intended as a hothouse flowering plant for a short time indoors, but we managed to relocate them outside and they are just starting their second flowering. The scent is wonderful, and the soft pale green is delicious. We also potted some lantana, some Arizona yellow bell and a favorite: red and rose coloured geraniums, also in their second flowering as I write. 

Geraniums always remind me of my grandomther. She loved them and painted a lovely watercolour of the flower when she was 16. That was 1906. I gave the painting some years ago to my sister Peggy. At the time we were moving to Europe and I wanted to make certain the painting stayed in America with our family. 

As I write I remember France and the many fields of lavendar we saw while visiting Provence. Near the village of Le barroux. The town was once a fortified castle; all that remains now is the town and the castle ruins. It is a lovley place of winding streets and revamped houses now filled with foreigners and Parisians who want a country place. The plaons surrounding the hill upon which Le Barroux is built are filled with vinyards and lavendar. Scrumptious. It is amazing what memories a simple scent may bring you from our of the blue. 

Memoir

Dad was hurrying us as I  left my almost new portable radio cassette player on the trash heap of household items (we were unloading ourselves of near and dear worldly goods for which there was no room in the car) in the alley behind the giant lemon tree. How I loved that tree, with it's yearly weighty load of large yellow fruit. I trailed my fingers across its emerald leaves and golden Autumn globes, said goodbye to it and clambered into the back seat of the 72 Ford Torino Squire Wagon. I think we were entitled to the 'Squire' part from the name because of the magnificent vinyl wood panelling to be found sweeping both the driver and passenger sides of the car, as well as its tailgate; but the Torino I was never quite as certain  of - was it a reference to the city in Italy?  To their football club? Doesn't seem likely, does, it... I doubt I shall ever know.

It was late afternoon in Yuma as we drove out of that city as a family. Dad headed us north along the old highway through Quartzite, and as dusk fell, Mom began the rosary. I slumped into the shiny brown stamped vinyl of the backseat - an upgrade I'm sure - and closed my eyes, somewhat resentful as I mumbled the words of the Hail Mary. Which decade were we saying? I don't know now, and I didn't know then. As the light started to fall in the Arizona sky all I could think of was that our lives were slipping off the map, and that our sanity was following swiftly.

I don't know who first decided that evil spirits were following us that evening, but the ratty torn shreds of clouds were dark and menacing, backlit in the last light of the day, and it was easy to imagine fearsome forms lurking within them and all about us. I felt the last of reality fall from my grasp and succumbed to the fear that was generated by my devout parents that evening.  This fear would last for many years before I was again able to achieve any sense of proportion regarding religion and its place within my life. I was twenty-two years old, it was 1980 and my personal hell on earth was in full swing.

_________________________________________

First, let me say, that at twenty-two, one would think that the clutching grasp of parental beliefs would have already been loosened by some experience out in the world, a bevy of close friends and peers and certainly one's own explorations of reason and sex. Yet, no, my family's values, strongly taught and deeply felt, held sway well into my late twenties.

We were Roman Catholic, but very conservative R.C., and the fear of God had long outstripped for me any personal truth in his or her love. After all, we learn of God's love through our parents, particularly our fathers, and my relationship with my father was fragile and shaky, and had been, for some years. My Mother's faith dominated our lives, from the many pictures and statues of saints and angels and Jesus, through our almost daily rosaries and Mass; through special events such as the 'Weeping Madonna' we hosted in our home to the financial support my parents extended far beyond their means to every Catholic charity one might imagine. I had more than one 'sister' and 'brother' supported monthly by Mom and Dad in far flung places such as China and its Catholic missions, and closer places such as New York City, where street kids were given shelter through same such donations.  

At times, as a child, it was painful to be denied art lessons while the money for them went to other children I did not and will never likely meet. Yet, to feel this way was utterly selfish, I knew, and I bore the heavy weight of my guilt sometimes in angry tirades, but more often as a silent resentment. Did they not understand the importance of my painting? Could they not love me as much as 'Ying Yang Sue'? 

I believed, in fact, they could not love me. There was no degree. That I was indeed wholly unlovable, and in part because all my priorities were wrong; but more so because of my secret, the secret I was sure was known to them and yet was hated and hateful, horrific in every way. The secret no one would ever speak of with me. The secret that would damn me to eternal hellfire, for in the middle of a nocturnal emission at 12 years old Satan himself appeared to me and said, laughing: "I will destroy you through sex, Donnie. I know your secret!" 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Thundering Turtles

So my spouse named us today as we drove the Rover over the bumpy two miles of dirt road to the Rio Verde highway! "Thundering what", I exclaimed? "Thundering turtles", Mark replied. As I thought of the imagery, I concluded it wasn't wholly inaccurate. Bucking all the trends all our lives together we have slowly but surely made our way forward to here and now. Of course, a tortoise would be a more accurate imagery for two land lubbers such as we; ne'er the less lumbering, lurching forward in a sort of slow ungainly manner is accurate - even for a turtle once it's out of the water!

We recently planted six new lantana plants in the front yard, and we've dutifully kept after them each day, talking, cajolling them into sinking down their roots and pushing upwards and out their leaves and flowers. Additionally, we placed two Mexican Bird of Paradise in Italian terracotta pots on the front loggia - their lacy, lovely ferny leaves shimmer on their narrow leggy trunks, and push out a riotous bloom of yellow and orange fire for all to see. The hummingbirds are in love with all the new flowering plants, as are the butterflies - of which I've seen two new species. One, a large velvet black creature with great yellow dots upon its lower wings. The second a smallish yellow and oragne creature of great agility.

Each evening all comes peaceably to rest. The Bird of Paradise and the mesquite fold their little fern-like leaves as if in slumber, and the many birds and small mammals disappear to nests and burrows. Only the toads come out, along with the beady glowing eyes of the occasional hunter of sleeping unwary little ones. Miss Athenais apparently has a suitor in the form of an elusive bobcat. He leaves little gemlike feces at the doorstep at night, and at night she is oft frantic to get outside and greet this visitor - whomever it might actually be. Good parents that we are she is of course utterly discouraged from such rauchous and unladylike behavior, lest she loose not only her virginity, but her noble place, oh ancestors we hear thee, in feline society; we have the battle, but whom shall win the war? Shall we arrive at the vet too late? Or will her spaying provide us all relief at last from nocturanl suitors of dubious birth?

Thus, the turtles waddle forward, one more day completed, serene in our little family troupe thrown wayward like upon the desert's grace, one air-conditioning cell and one well of lightly laced arsenic agua between us and doom. Bon nuit mes freres!

A Christian's View of Same Sex Marriage

Well, I haven't been here for awhile...

The big news, of course, is he California Supreme Court's ruling to allow same sex marriage in California. Hur-rah! It's about time.

Of course the religious right is attempting a ballot measure to prevent/stop the ruling from coming into being, but I have hopes that this latest attempt to prevent equality for the GLBT community will fail. I certainly do hope so. We were able to prevent an amendment to the Massachusetts Constitution, and we defeated a VOTE for an amendment to the Arizona Constitution; surely we can manage the same in California.

But, if we don't, I still believe it will turn around. This is the same reprehensible nonsense as disallowing women the vote, and even more similar to the ugliness of preventing African Americans general civil equality.

It IS a civil rights issue. It is a matter for the courts in this regard, for the courts are meant to protect the minority from the prejudices of the majority. Those whom purport that radical judges are to blame misunderstand fundamentally the purpose of our judicial system. Interracial marriage was a scandal at one time, after all; now it is quite normal in the majorities viewpoint. This will happen for same sex marriage as well. As more and more countries (Denmark this week past) and states realize the disenfranchisement and inequality created by a personal faith indifference to civil rights, we will find the religious view of 'sin' must be abolished in the civil arena regarding someones sexuality. The only other course is to become a theocracy, and Americans who founded this country did so to escape the dictates of their own theocracies at home. Just as Islam has created theocracies in multiple Middle Eastern and Eastern countries, to the detrement of their citizens' freedoms, Americans will surely not allow fundamentalist Christians to become the voice of our laws at home. As a pluralistic and secular society it must offend even moderate Christians, not to mention those of other faiths and/or no faith whatsoever, to be dictated to by one segment of America's citizenship.

Those of hyper-conservative faith backgrounds certainly have rights as well, but those rights do not include imposing their faith beliefs on the nation as a whole. Even they should be able to understand this simple idea, that no one church may determine civil laws for all Americans. Rather, the faith of individuals must only govern those whom agree with their doctrines and philosophies; and that government is found within their own homes and families and in their own churches and temples, but certainly not in society generally. Would fundamentalist Christians wish to be ruled by a Jewish or Muslim state? Of course not. The solution is to have the Church separate from the State. Period.

Home is the right and proper place to instruct in religious societal values. This is the primary place to teach one children about one's own faith's principals, which may not congeal with societies secular view. The responsibility of parents is to teach their children their values and traditions so as to armor them against what their faith may hold as wrong in the great wide world.

Likewise, public schools may not cater to religious beliefs. Should you wish a narrower social upbringing there are private faith schools. It is the duty of the public school system to reflect the diversity of public thought and opinion without bias for or against the views of either liberal or conservative thought. The fear of children being exposed to multiple viewpoints is ridiculous. All their lives people are exposed to beliefs differing from their own. This is why the imperative for living a life of faith must be dependent upon a child's home life; the faith lived and taught lovingly at home will produce a competent adult capable of not only choosing well for themselves but also also capable in their ability to debate their beliefs throughout their lives. Conversely, the purpose of public education is to present young people with the multiple beliefs of the world at large, to foster tolerance and understanding even of those whose views we cannot concede as genuine for ourselves. In short, individuals may not and should not expect a 'crutch' for their religious views by enforcing these views upon society. Christ said it himself, and very well indeed: "Give unto Ceasar what is Ceasar's, and unto God what is God's." If Christ authors the separation of Church and State why is it so difficult for us to do likewise?

As a Christian, a Catholic, I am able to best speak from this background. Throughout the New Testament Christ spoke one central message of inclusive love. Nowhere did he encourage violence against anyone, even those he found living outside his grace. He stopped the stoning of the prostitute. Nowhere did he encourage disenfranchisement, no matter their race or politics; consider the the meaning behind the parable of the good Samaritan. Christ saw one thing, that his Father had created all men in his image. He loves us all today as well.

We have that same obligation. Justice and equality for all, whether you are Christian, Jewish or Muslim. Whether white, black or brown. American or Chinese. Gay, lesbian or straight.

The High Chaparral!

There is something unexpected and even unexplainable in our recent location to the high desert chaparral. First, the desert has always previously been a torture to me, growing up in it from childhood well into my twenties, that involved some crossovers between unmitigated heat and a total lack of culture, at least in the sense of a deplorable lack of fine art, (cowboy bronzes don't count), classical music (gee-tars at the how-down don't count) and haute cuisine. (Right again, enchiladas in verde sauce, don't count!)





Nevertheless, here we are, and in a few days I do believe I will find some of that elusive PEACE I keep hunting. The house is large, too, large, but light filled and airy. It's a tad 'neuvo riche' in it's expansive layout, and certainly a contractor, not an architect, designed and built it... it lacks the simplicity and detailing of a genuine beauty. Nevertheless, in it's slightly garish charm, and rather too well hidden bones, still lurk the possibility of order from chaos. What's more, after nearly being homeless I cannot seriously complain at all. We have a home! More than we could have hoped for and located in the most beautiful of natural preserves.



The chaparral comes within feet of the house; it's mesquite, ocotillo, sahuaro very green indeed this year. Cotton tails, jack rabbits, mule deer, hawks, a falcon have been seen - and the coyotes heard. Perhaps a mountain cat roams near? Quail, roadrunners, all of nature is here and whether gentle or deadly it's awful beauty fascinates and calms and excites all at once. Peace. Some peace at last.

Two More Angels

These two little fur balls are always up to something cute. My angelic acrobat, Athenais, immediately set upon my easel, (recently put to use in the living room), as the latest goal for her gymnastic aspirations. Her excitement was palpable as she assessed her options for conquering this Everest of canvas and wood; she circled the easel several times, sat upon her haunches and motioned with her forelegs her desire to climb and then, without further hesitation, clambered up the armoire and over to the top of my painting. You can see her enthusiasm. She spent about ten minutes upon her conquered pinnacle awaiting our amazement and praise.

Monsieur Bouvier, on the other hand, is overjoyed when he finds Mark and I alone together in the living room. He snakes between our legs, back and forth, for some serious petting and scratching, and after a few minutes of personal grooming, plops himself upon the carpet and spreads eagle for us. Exposing his belly is quite a compliment to his feeling safe, welcome and loved, and of course it's hilarious, too!

L'ange

I received a comment today on an older post regarding the Bethesda Fountain and its Angel of the Waters. Here are a few more photographs of that beautiful place taken our last winter in New York City. Click on this post's title to see the original post.

CLAUDE-NICOLAS LEDOUX

The French architect Claude-Nicolas Ledoux is associated with the late eighteenth centuries return to nature, exeplified in philosophy with Jean-Jacques Rousseau, but in which case with architecture means a return to ancient classical forms of the Greco-Roman. Ledoux's buildings are overtly restrained and severely classical, sometimes categorized as Architecture of the Revolution, exemplifying in masonry the ideals of the new order, stripped of nearly all ornamentation and even at times considered avant-garde by contemporaries. 

Nevertheless, some stunning and ethereal buildings are the result, including Madame du Barry's Pavillion du Louviciennes. The design was awarded Ledoux, over the King's architect Ange-Jacques Gabriel's objections, by du Barry; the plans were completed in 1770 and the building itself completed in 1771 and inaugurated on September 2 of that year. Gabriel oversaw completion of the interiors and oranament for the pavilion. Built only as a tableau of reception rooms with views of the Seine valley it proved so popular with the King and his mistress that du Barry intended to replete the building with all the rooms necessary for living, however the King's untimely death disrupted any such notions. Unpopular with the new King, Louis XVI, and his young queen, Marie Antoinette, du Barry nevertheless retained the deeds of both the Chateau and the Pavillion.

The Pavillion du Louviciennes was really the onset of Ledoux's career. Many of his later buildings are now lost, some to the very Revolution which inspired them; yet others, so modern and spectacular in device they never left the proverbial drawing board, seem futuristic in many ways even to our eyes today. A fine facsimile of a portfolio of Ledoux drawings is available from Tachsen Press and includes many elevations and floor plans worth anyone's time and interest.

Americans know the work of Ledoux, and his contemporaries such as Gabriel, far better than they know. Jefferson, Adams and Franklin, all having acted as ambassadors to the French court, saw the authority and monumentality of French Neo-Classical architecture and brought these forms to both their residences and the public buildings of the fledgling United States. Washington, D.C., is itself a tribute to French classicism as planned by Major Pierre-Charles L'Enfant in 1791 and mapped in 1792. Having fought along side George Washington in the Revolutionary War, he requested and was given the honor of devising the new capital's layout. Created on the mostly vacant acreage betwixt the Potomac and East Rivers, the ten mile tract gave an unrivaled potential for innovation. Washington was built on a wheel spoke axis taking full advantage of views and neo-classical proportions; both the Capital Building and the White House represent the zenith of French influence on the Americas.

CLAUDE-NICOLAS LEDOUX

To My Valentine

It is twenty years, now, my Love. Twenty years of joy and heartache, of laughter and tears, of learning what love really means and of how it has shaped our lives.

Tonight you are far away, an oddity for us two whom rarely spend even hours apart. It is difficult to not have you here in the house, smoking your cigarettes and typing away at your computer for hours. (Though the air is fresher!) Your sandy hair, tousled and unkempt, is not within my reach this evening, soft as cornsilk, to run my fingers through, as I stroke your brow. Your arms, in which I lie so many evenings, too, are lost me this night. And other body fragments, too, which have made intimate so many of our nights are lost to me this evening.

But, still you are near. The bed clothes store your scent, and so do your shirts, Your various projects lay about unfinished, partly constructed or unconstructed. Your photos are within my view. Yes, even miles away you're still here with me - each object in this house holds your memory as easily as a vase holds flowers; and the perfume of those sweet, sweet thoughts I've stored deep inside me waft ever gently to my mind.

And, soon, My Love, you will return to me, you will come home and I will have you in my arms again. But all that is intangible will still be here, too, receded, but ready, always to come forth to sooth and calm, to remember soft kisses and music which is ours...

A Minimum of Dignity, Please.

This is the most heart wrenching story, but it's not the only one. 

A woman in Florida never got to see her partner before she died. The Hospital, Harvard medical, refused her permission to see her partner - until the sister of the dying woman gave her permission to do so.  Don't be fooled,  this story just keeps repeating itself over and over again all across the country, but especially where there are no laws demanding equal treatment for Gay families.

Write your Congressmen and Congresswomen, please. Demand that laws denying our right to civil marriage and domestic partnerships be overturned so that GLBT couples may have the same ability to be present within the critical and important moments of their  lives, just  as you do.

Click the Headline to go to the Video.

Stranger in Paradise

I don't know if I'm able to write about death without sounding either cloying or detached. The Spectre seems to be so very close these days, and many whom I've respected or whose work I've loved are now gone. Judy Garland and Grace Kelly, Rock Hudson have stories which resonate with my experiences. Heath Ledger seems only the latest of far too many; in the past few years I've said goodbye to Audrey Hepburn and Dan Fogelberg, as if they were friends - and now others I do know intimately are approaching goodbyes; my friend, Patty, won't be here for a great deal longer and my Mom, too, will be gone soon. And, perhaps, Dad. I wonder if I will lose my Mark? How do you continue without your heart and soul guy? It's not the leaving that hurts so, their agonies are through. It's the remaining behind. The horrific emptiness at feeling bereft of companions whom we believe believed ad felt as we do. 

I think of the thousands of young men and women whom are dying in an unjust war and their parents burying them. I think of my Gay brothers whom are attacked by strangers whom hate for the sake of hate, and especially of the ones whom in despair take their own lives because they don't believe, can't fathom being loved. The commercials of children dying in Darfur or at St. Jude's are too real and too close, and even the abused animals with great sad eyes tear at my heart as if I knew each of them - and I wish I could hold them and take away their pain. Or maybe it's my pain I wish they could take away. 

If you love them, hug them, write or feed the ones you love enough will it carry you through the long years of loneliness you expect? Will watching their films or listening to their songs fill the days? Will reading old Christmas cards or crying at Irish music bring Mom back for a few minutes? Will sending money ease the pain? What is there that can make any of it mean something worthwhile? I hear in my heart the fluttering wings of angels and I see in my mind's eye old holy cards stained with the tears of the Saints and bloodied Sacred Hearts pierced with swords. I remember believing in Church and Country, some time long ago, when I could brush the dust off a butterfly wing and not regret it, a child scientist exploring a life's demise with disquieting aplomb. Now I think of, long for another life, a heaven, a paradise, the celestial globe; a garden unending where decay at last ends and the cherry tree blooms in the midst of snow falling softly. Quiet, beautiful and filled with many songs, the sea thundering to the the lawn's edge and there, amidst every contradiction, they are all there again, with the bloom in their cheeks and the fire of stars always in their eyes. Stranger things are true.

You See, No One Ever Called Me Darling Before

Bette Davis' magnificently delivered line in Dark Voyage is powerful because it is universal, this need to be loved. It is the desire which pervades all mens' hearts, no matter our age and no matter our status. And it is this need for which we, as Gays and Lesbians, continue to fight for our equal right to love and be loved by whom our hearts choose.

It's a lovely fallacy propagated by dangerous, religious right-wing extremists to declare that everyone chooses to be Gay or Lesbian. 

I suppose there may be a few iconoclasts whom toy with the idea of making sexuality a choice in order to shock their parents or peers, perhaps a tactic of some few rebellious youth; but in the end it is the heart which wins out for nearly all of us. The heart rarely chooses the individual person it loves, nor the gender of it's desire, I assure you. Rather, the heart simply and suddenly understands it is in love, and the gender of it's object of ardor is an ingrained biological predetermination, so very far from any sort of ideological selection.

I ask my heterosexual friends when they decided to be in love with their opposite sex partner and forego involvement with someone of their own gender. Not one has told me they ever made a choice, rather their biological preference simply was and is. Even those whom admit to a deep love of a member of their own sex find it does not translate, with rare exception, to a desire for any sexual expression of those feelings. Rather, most have told me that for them such an physical expression would harm their deeply valued platonic love. 

As a Gay man I can no more imagine making physical love to a woman that I can imagine sexual intercourse with a tree. (And, yes, I'm a tree hugger, too!) But, my ardor of and for the noble long lived old growth sequoia stops far short of coitus and a marriage proposal - despite what anti-gay bigots would have you believe of me and my Gay brothers and sisters! Nor does my deep fondness for my Chartreux in anyway construe that I shall be proposing nuptials to either Bouvier or Athenais - despite my regard for their intellects being far superior to that of Mr. Huckabee and David Duke or the likes of certain men of the cloth - whether they're residing at Vatican City or the compound of the Phelps' Clan!

The Old Testament, the source of  these mens 'truth' for my supposed 'abomination' of lying with a man, and which seems to robustly condemn me, also decries eating shellfish and laboring upon the Sabbath. Yet, I, along with the majority of the world, see the ludicrous nature of these latter prohibitions. Why, then, do so many so-called Christians cling to the former precept without question and with such passionate jubilation that their abhoration of same sex relationships seems to be supported Bibically? Well, certainly a number of these sectarian zealots are enamored, and what more, needful, of this Old Testament passage. This archaic dogmatic morsel, individually selected from amongst numerous prohibitions, (like an eye for an eye which promulgated violence) must no longer be given validity, for it allows radical bigots to override, as if with Divine authority, the actual present Word of God in the New Testament! God our Father's Word, brought to us by Christ, His Son, to specifically replace the Old Testament and its fallacies has the specific purpose of disallowing violence and hatred as legitimate - yet in the agenda of right-wing extemists it still allows wrongful  justification for their deep abiding hatred of those of us whom they cannot accept or tolerate. They feel excused, and excused by God Himself, to pursue their self-indulgent crusade against our loving relationships.

This is an adopted prejudice ignorant both of Jesus Christ's message that the old laws are concluded and discharged, as well as dangerous to our spiritual life. Likewise, they revel in the harmful conceit of being illiterate of the scholarship of both theologians and historians (such as John Boswell, whose work Christianity, Homosexuality and Christian Tolerance, gives ample examples of the early Church not only tolerating but indeed blessing same sex unions); whose work provides a broad and complex range of early Classical documentation that same sex relationships were a normal part of Roman, Greek and early Christian societies. Not until 325 AD when the Nicene, or First Vatican Council - established at the forefront of the Dark Ages - when lost, or perhaps deliberately hidden from the broader world, were great accumulations of knowledge: of science, theology, astronomy, physics, philosophy, art and literature, medicine, and even plumbing - were our same sex unions uniformly found to be dangerous. Why? At least in part one must swiftly and deliberately promulgate the desperate need of the Faithful to produce offspring raised in the new religion. A decisive ploy to gain political and economic dominion as the educated old order collapsed and new generations, deprived of the choices of knowledge, were indoctrinated in the new universal, or catholic, 'truthes'.

Yes, those same sex relationships were vastly different than those we accept today regarding couples of the same gender;  yet, what is too often overlooked is that marriage in general was equally far different for heterosexuals in our early civilization. Love was never the basis of such contracts between men and women, rather economics and idealogues were the deciding factor for unions. Marriages were based almost exclusively upon the financial and social benefits of these contracts. If a couple were exceedingly blessed, perhaps a certain love and mutual respect were garnered by the pair over time. More often, it was to those of the time justifiably a matter of the acquisition of wealth and political alliance, (and certainly faith, too, became political) all to further the extended families foothold in a fragile world of treacherous partisan intrigue and literal cut-throat domination. 

This state of marriage remained the norm well into the beginning of the twentieth century, until at last, the idea of happiness in marriage slowly overcame the need to combine family names and fortunes to protect and build empty wealth and power. Yes, it surely still happens - it makes for marvelous drama in film and gossip rags; but overall Western couples now realize that what makes life genuinely wealthy is a loving union between two persons. Two lovers whom become each others primary helpmates and mutual source of joy, their solace and strength, both spiritually, emotionally and physically. 

It cannot be too difficult, then, to extrapolate that these most basic human needs are just as vital for same sex couples as for opposite. It is more than understandable that for most of us foraging through life without the immediate love and support of one other person is the greatest loss one can imagine. Whom, then, is benefited by denying this most basic need to be loved and to love, and further to refute our ability to legally protect this love in all ways afforded by law?

It is not the State. It is already being shown that the legal commitment in civil marriage by same sex couples carries the exact same benefits for society that opposite sex marriage does - it stabilizes individuals and enables them to produce economically, benefitting the community financially as a whole; as well as developing responsibility towards community well being through social involvement and the giving of time and expertise to those whom are less fortunate. And, as marriage reflects God's love for each of us, oursame sex unions provides a spiritual platform for growth and well being.

The churches, Christian, Muslim, Buddist and all, still have in their minds a legitimate need to control whom we love, and for much the same reason. They still desire to propagate their religious beliefs in order to find some authority of what the majority believe - and still they wish to swell the ranks with children whom believe. Unfortunately, it seems to me it is less and less about the child receiving grace and the knowledge of his or her parents' God, but about controlling the thought of we, the masses; as if some new Holy War, a new Crusade, must be fought with the sword -- or rather high powered automatic weapons and nuclear bombs. Or passenger planes.

How Christ - and Allah - must abhor this way of thinking! Surely it is through His own avocation of loving each other, even our enemies (for it's usually easy to love those whom agree with us); of helping one another, even upon the Sabbath (because loving human beings is far more honorable to God than maintaining a ritual in His honor); of turning away from revenge, even if our own cheek is then exposed; not out of fear but because you witness that God is within even the man whom injures you. 

Is it the family, then, that is injured by same sex marriage? This is certainly the cry of many of those whom are rooted in their opposition to our civil recognition. Yet, this too, is proven not to be the case. I know of not one family which has been harmed by my marriage to my spouse, Mark. In fact, Mark's marriages with previous female partners failed long before I knew him. They all failed in part because Mark lived a pretense in these marriages - they were ordained not so much out of love but as a shield against societal disapproval of his same sex attraction. Yet, his same sex attraction continued, and ultimately caused the demise, at least in part, of these marriages. Would it have not been better for all concerned if Mark had had an option to openly be Gay? What if the rejection of same sex unions been repudiated as ludicrous and deeply damaging prior to these commitments falsely based on sexual sameness? Much pain for all could have ben avoided.

 

Likewise, would my own inability to settle with one man, to end a futile search for intimacy in so many varied sexual encounters, have ended far sooner had I been given the hope, far earlier, that I too, might have known the promise of a loving and lasting marriage to a person of my own sex? It is this distinct societal disapproval of my attraction to my own sex, an attraction inborn and unchosen, which led so often to my despair of finding peace and acceptance by my peers and society. What if, instead of a secret half-life, I'd dared bring out of the closet my God given genetic attraction for those of my own sex, and fully lived this truth, refusing to fear others disapproval and reprisals?

Ah, there's no tarot card reading which can answer my question,  no old woman with a crystal ball - only the precedence of experience, as recorded by others, of how being true to one's own self is the path to peace. It is God whom I thank, and my dear Mark, for the proof that living openly now as I have been created is the constant of my happiness. No, it is not easy to live openly, exposed to being hated, it is not heart warming to be despised, even by some few misguided souls. Yet, how much better it is to endure all the inevitable backlash and hostility, revulsion, animosity and disgust I do so often encounter in weak, hate-filled men, knowing that I am loved and supported by at least one man, my husband, Mark. It is a most basic human need to be loved and to love in return.

And, it is this Truth that eventually shall exonerate me of all inadequate doctrine deployed against my love of Mark. I know in God's eye, I am already living His Truth, to the best of my ability. Do not misunderstand me, I'm not without failure! I am still very much a human being, flawed and a sinner; but in this one choice of loving myself for the Gay man I am, the Gay man whom God created and whom He loves, I have chosen wisely. I will not hide my light beneath a bushel basket, nor bury my talents beneath the ground. I choose to live openly, in love with my dear spouse, for all to witness. It is, after all, my calling. God has gifted me with this sexuality, and it is a precious gift. I know He calls me to show that His gift does not devalue me, nor Mark; or the thousands of  Gay and Lesbian family members we hold in our hearts. Rather, it is Christ's challenge both to me and to Mark, as well as to His many faithful believers, to open our minds and hearts to each Gay and Lesbian person whom comes into our lives, to see each of us as a blessing, a peer and an equal before God and before our civil law. 

This, then, is a most clear and definite call to all of us men and women of God to ACT to restore and preserve a place at God's table in our churches and temples for all our Gay and Lesbian family. And without a single doubt, it is a call to all of us men and women of a free and Democratic society to ACT to insure the civil equality of each of our Gay and Lesbian fellow citizens before our United States Constitution. 

So, if you're along for the ride of the this dark voyage, I'm fiercely recommending that having the stars is NOT enough, we've got to take the moon along, too. 

Heath Ledger

What can anyone say, and how can one even get it out, it chokes at you and you have to brush back the tears, the anger and rage, the stupefied dismay that someone with all the promise and brilliance of Mr. Ledger is somehow just gone. It smacks of unfairness, of a world gone mad and in it's own way is as earth shattering as the twin towers collapsing. 

It can't have really happened. He can't be dead. So many of my hopes were pinned to this young man's talent, his ability to inhabit the skins of others for us, to take us blithely and care-freely out of ourselves for some few hours in his medium of actor. 

There are few artists whom ever reach our souls, those few genuine talents whom give everything in order to grant us, their audiences, a powerful picture of some aspect of ourselves. They find the Everyman in their characters, and their gift is to allow us to see some part of our own foibles and triumphs in their personifications. I saw myself in Ennis Del Mar, perhaps expectedly; but also without warning in his Casanova; and that was Heath's gift to each of us. My heart was wrenched apart when Ennis clutched Jack's shirt in Brokeback Mountain, and his Casanova made me imagine even I, too, could be such a flight of fancy, elegance, sophistication and desire. 

The sharp pain I feel is uncharted, unexplainable. I didn't know this man, only his characters. I've no claim to my grief for him, really - yet his death, like only a few others, has made me feel the world has changed again, stepping too, too close to unfathomable darkness. A light has gone out too soon. A star imploded. The black hole of his wake is still devouring my hope and faith.

Homophobia Rampant

The news is always filled with disturbing examples of the hatred instigated and perpetuated by those whom believe that Gays and Lesbians are less than human. The latest example comes from Tucson, Arizona where 27 year old Melissa Arrington has been sentenced to ten and one half years imprisonment for a negligent homicide charge. Arrington, driving under the influence of alcohol, ran over and killed a Frenchman, L'Ecuyer, 45, a cyclist on December 1, 2006. The judge in the case had the leeway to limit incarceration to as little as four years. However, it was a monitored telephone conversation from jail which prompted the almost maximum sentence.

Arrington was recorded, a week after the death, laughing that she had done the world a service by killing a "tree hugger, a bicyclist, a Frenchman and a gay guy all in one shot."

Superior Court Judge Michael Cruikshank said the statement was "breathtaking in its inhumanity" and that the callousness and lack of remorse deserved to be taken into account in sentencing. 

The only problem is that Arrington is only one of millions whom believe that L'Ecuyer's murder is somehow, if not justified, certainly of no consequence. Where do these people garner such attitudes towards other human beings? We know at least in part they are fostered by our own Churches. The Vatican's statement that Gays and Lesbians are "intrinsically evil" must be viewed as a legitimate source of deliberate homophobia, a real attempt to influence millions of faithful that those of us whom are born homosexual are of lesser value, of NO merit, and only a source of corruption in the world.

They are also reflected in much of our media; Heath Ledger's death being exploited by Fox News', John Gibson, as a source of amusement - and Mr. Ledger only played a Gay man. Gibson remarked: "Well, he found out how to quit you." 

( www.afterelton.com/bgwe/1-25-08 )

I wish we could find a way to quit homophobia.

Dieux du Hommes

Men, men, men! I love men - in suits, in the buff, classical or contemporary - each has an often apparent appeal. The images I've chosen to show, though, are of men whom have something more than the surface to show. Even if a glossy facade is what is most apparent. There's always something deeper, something more...

From the Ancients adoration to our immortalization of the men of today, male beauty has been preserved in marble and wood, oil and canvas, in the written word and of course through photography. Here are just a few images of sensuality I've collected which offer a glimpse of men as gods.

A Royal Flush

The sweetest pair of Chartreux in the world belong to me! Take a look at these adorable baby cats, they make our lives worth living!

The Life of Reilly?

Well,, today, as suggested by my therapist for so long, I actually took the initiative to leave the apartent for severla, five actually, hours today. I've appaently become so isolated in my fear of people that I must now practice going out and about by myself.

So, I asked Mark if he'd be OK of I was gone part of the day, and Spencer (our Rover) and I hit the road. No great adventure ensued, we went by several antique and fabric shops, over in the La Brea area and saw any multiple of things I could not afford to buy! But window shopping still got me out and that

s the key.

My panic attacks have come more and more frequently and indeed, they set on me today twice - but they were mild enough for me to work through them. And that was a big thing for old me, not turning the car around and coming home. So, I succeeded, at least a little! Three cheers pour moi! A Touts la Glories de la France; pardon, non, un moment: ... de la MOI!

I did have my second serious fall within two years - the last was over a year go in NYC - and under the same circumstance: inclement weather! NYC was invisible ice on the sidewalk - I just went zoom zoom into the air and landed full force upon my left hip. Today's calamity was the drenched sidewalk before Liz's hardware - my boot just slipped out from underneath me and I plopped upon my right arm and side, and somehow twisted my back. I do believe it's all just bruised and turned muscles, not bones, but I do worry a bit about damaging the new pair of hips. Just enough to make them misalign, that's my worry.

The rain, the culprit, though is still very much my friend. It's been delightful to be out in the damp moist air, and especially nice feeling so secure while driving Spencer during the few hard downfalls... four wheel drive and an adjustment to a tighter suspension make driving Spence a pleasure - and the bonus is he's so safe!

Well, I'm tired and bruised, yes for real, and I'm off to crash a bit.  My only advice is don't be cocky when some cute guy smiles at you - 'cause God will drop you on your ass for humility really darn quick

Photos: Central Park in the Snow

Stormy Weather

It's raining hard this morning in Los Angeles. I always see the rain as a great blessing, and the heavy clouds seem like a great warm comforter dropped low across the earth's four poster. I hear the automobiles zooming past on Crescent Heights and the swish of tires through standing water. 

Growing up in Arizona, in the desert, any change from heat was so welcome. And, so, in August and September, when the monsoons would arrive, I was in heaven. We had a pair of great old cottonwood trees in our yard, and as the autumn came the leaves would turn bright yellows and golds and fall upon the St. Augustine grass of the lawn. The big sticky leaves would crunch beneath my bare toes and, except for the occasional pyracantha stem hiding it's thorns amongst them, it was marvelous to wildly tear through the sea of leaves. 

The moment a storm would arrive, and the skies went hazy and gray, a wind would blow up the leaves. I remember tearing off my shirt to feel the new coolness and running, helter skelter, arms waving all about, across the yard kicking up the golden crunchy carpet. I'd throw myself down eventually, and roll about, wrapped in a blanket of old gold, and watch the storm clouds rush swiftly overhead. The starck, white and gray branches of the cottonwood would sway in the wind, shedding their last few stalwart fronds, and even strips of bark, as they wrestled Zephyr in his angst.

New York had wonderful storms, filled with rain, sleet and snow! I would often take the No. 7 to the City and go up to Central Park in the rain and or snow. My best memories are of that park in storms - and the snow would blanket the grounds and monuments and trees with a depth of peace I couldn't believe.

Too fast, too swiftly, the storms would pass and the terrible heat would try to return, though it would eventually leave us for winter, such as it was. So, those few days each year when water and wind would change the world for me were precious. A breathing time, a time to live and thrive, those blustery marvelous days. I love them still, they are still too rare and fair. 

There and Back Again

Well, it's been forever since I posted anything here, and without any particular reason. Life has just been incredibly messy the last six or seven months and writing about politics or even personal matters has been the least of my concerns.

Christmas and New Years 2007 have come and gone and everything is changing and topsy turvy. Mom and Dad are hanging on despite their health. No news from any of the siblings. Even most of our friends seem to have dwindled away. perhaps lost n their own Financial troubles and emotional storms have swept away so many of those whom I had counted upon. The Church in her apparent wisdom has condemned my family as intrinsically evil - and sadly that freedom of speech seems to have encouraged so many, including strangers, to liberate themselves even from common courtesy towards Mark and I as a couple. 

Yet, I feel closer than ever before to my spouse, Mark. The hardships, I suppose, had two possibilities: either to confirm and strengthen our love or show that we had lost our connections. The peace I feel at the veracity of our love, especially in the face of adversity, is a great consolation. 

I wish I knew how to find that with my sister and brothers. I have at least managed to reestablish. I had finally asked them, after a long period of fear regarding the answer, whether they believed that the Church had stumbled in its inability to reach out the Gay community. I really thought that They would tell me the Church was right, but to my surprise they expressed such love for Mark and me, and a deep and genuine sorrow that those whom should exemplify Christ's love could sweepingly categorize us as wholly evil. Their support has given me so much joy and confirmed my belief that Christ's Vicar has misspoken and caused great harm to many, many loving men and women.

As the elections approach I pray that we will see a Democrat in office; we must move away from the Republican approach to government, which unfortunately has become theocratic, bigoted and non-inclusive of whole segments of American society. The ideals of freedom of religion and speech have been confused and muddied with a repressive form of fundalmentalism which wants to sweep away any idividual thought or way of life which it fears. The very mortar of our foundation is failing, not from the supposed erosion of family values by Gays and Lesbians, but from the deep seated hatred of the very persons whom decry Gay and Lesbian lives and families. Whom could believe that laws preventing homophobic abuse of school children would be decried as an encouragement to thwart religious belief? 

Additionally, stalwart idealolgy of Republican thought have been trampled by the current administration, including economics and even private gun ownership, now under threat by Bush and his cronies. It would not surprise me to see an attempt to order martial law prior to the elections, trumped up by some threat to our security. Any attempt to do so is, to me, a certain sign of Mr. Bush and his family and friends deliberately subjugating the Constitution for personal power.

A Federalist in the Supreme Court?

Following my comments you will find an article from the AP regarding the seizing of American reporters' materials by federal marshalls at a speech given by Supreme Court Justice Atonin Scalia.

The honorable Antonin Scalia. Oh, what a work is he! This ultra conservative member of our United States Supreme Court is a man whose personl views seem to be reflected consistently in his rulings. Do they also reflect the law? Let me give you some material and ideas to help you decide.

First of all there is a movement amongst many elite lifelong conservatives of our country whom whole heartedly believe that America has been misguided in interpretting our Constitution and Bill of Rights. Their argument put plainly is that the Constituion is meant to reflect only the ideas and ideals of our Founding Fathers, and only within the limited context in which they were originally written and understood. So, despite the two hundred and some year history of our Constitution and Bill of Rights being consistently interpretted by our courts as living documents (this idea of 'living documents' is the most important concept I am presenting to you here) these men and women believe that the only correct way to interpret these fundamental doctrines of our society is to base our current laws upon them in exactly the same way in which Washington, Jefferson, Adams and the other founders of our country understood them and intended them to be understood in the late eighteenth century. In other words Scalia and those who agree with him believe that men and women of the twenty-first century should live with a static and unchanging understanding of our Constitution and Bill of Rights. They want a society which does not allow for any interpretation of the principles of these documents to refect our current society. Rather they prefer that our understanding of these precepts remains inert and unvarying from their assumed intent when they were first written. This is a dangerous and frankly unorthodox approach to how we in America, in fact Western civilzation as a whole, has traditionally viewed and acted upon such documents. Including our Forefathers.

A couple of years ago I ran across an essay about painting in the Age of Enlightenment. It spoke of many things but in particular it focused on how art changed at the time of the American and French Revolutions. Art, which had always reverenced women, had made a substantial and polarizing swing to idolizing men, and in doing so reflected current political thought. It was especially apparent in French art in which men now played the dominant role - you need only view a few of Jacques Louis David's work's to understand that the new classicsm in the arts was all about men. View, for instance, the painting the 'Death of Socrates' and you will see that nobility is found exclusively in masculine prowess and male beauty - and womankind is bequaethed a subservient role or none at all. Our Forefathers viewed this art and understood it's context reflected a societal change. Jefferson in particular collected extensively and brought these paintings and their revolutionary ideas to the young American Republic. The ideals portrayed in the paintings and politics were adopted by America's founders as the model of the perfect classical state, the ideal! And it was a patriarchal society.

Why an art lesson? Well, first of all to remind us that society at the time of Jefferson, the same society which wrote that all men are entitled to freedom of speech, the pursuit of happiness and that all men are created equal was speaking about a very limited group of persons. Whom were they speaking of? White, heterosexual, upper class, eduacated and free men. And of whom were they seeking this freedom and equality from? The authority of the King of England and his Church. Whom was not included? Anyone not fitting the narrow definition and that included: women, Africans, in fact most if not all non-caucasian non-European decendant men, lower economic and social classes, certain religious groups (freedom of religion did not mean freedom to belong politically) and most certainly any man whom could be recognized to deviate from the proscribed morals of the era. So, homosexual men if known, certainly had no vote. But realistically homsexual men were almost completely underground. At this time in history only a few homosexual men, those of the old aristocracy of Europe, ever gave any public credence to their natural sexual orientation. It was a inviting death to acknowledge ones true self, for even if you were above usual legal punishments due to your rank, you were never above assisination. Open homosexuality in Europe was a death certificate.

I point this out because The Honorable Antonin Scalia, in his speech which was recorded by reporters whom were accosted for making those recordings (Scalia has little regard for the Fifth Estate or Freedom of the Press) said this:

"Question comes up: is there a constitutional right to homosexual conduct? Not a hard question for me. It's absolutely clear that nobody ever thought when the Bill of Rights was adopted that it gave a right to homosexual conduct. Homosexual conduct was criminal for 200 years in every state. Easy question."

Well, I vehemently disagree. It is not an easy question for anyone except for those whom would have us at the very least back in the closet without any civil rights, if not more happily eliminated all together. But here's the rub for most of you reading this. Scalia's extremism regarding the Constitution and Bill of Rights will hardly effect just the GLBT community of today. Scalia's belief that our country's most precious records of equality should be intrpretted only within the context of the intent of the original writers of these documents, our Forefathers, means that their view of society, limited by the knowledge of the eigteenth century society in which they lived, would and should be our view today. The Constitution and Bill of Rights, he says, were never intended as 'living documents' capable of expanding their original concept to be relevant with today's society and our understanding of ideas like "all men are created equal" must more or less remain unchanged.

Thankfully, there are many men and women, and this is proved by the tradition of how our courts and legislatures have worked for the last two centuries, whom reject the argument that our Founding Fathers intended for the Constitution and Bill of Rights to be static contracts which encompass only the beliefs and understandings of the time they were written. Instead, we believe these masterful writings were indeed left unrestricted to ensure their growth along with the growth of our fledgling country. Definitions of what 'equality' and 'pursuit of happiness' are deliberately left vague which suports the argument that their authors did indeed understand that our Constitution and Bill of Rights were the framework of our new Democracy and not the entire edifice. Time and again through our history the tradition of being open to ever broader understanding of our treasured ideals has proved their groundwork to be elegant and sound, well capable of supporting the ever branching structure of our Nation's family tree.

Equality has moved forward from our Founding father's narrow definition. It has progressed to understand that the color of one's skin has no bearing whatsoever upon one's ability to think, learn, worship or lead. And again, with end of segregation, we have conquered obsolete views that one's racial heritage can excude you even in part from participation in our society. Likewise, women have no longer to be at the beck and call nor the mercy of men, either as wife and homemaker or entrepneur and leader. They too have been recognized to be eqaul in all aspects to their male counterparts in our society. And, so it must and will be for gays and lesbians, transgendered and bisexuals. The false inferiority card which we have been dealt in the past will be withdrawn; for gays and lesbians, too, are citizens and must be treated equally in America both today and tomorrow.

Judge Scalia is the worst kind of a bigot. He supports his horrific views by distorting the facts, rewriting history to support his distortions and, I believe, influencing court decisions with his personal moral and religious views. His prejudice and his record of voting will eventually be looked back upon with the same horrorific disbelief with which we view those persons whom voted against integregation, whom supported slavery and whom denied the inherent dignity of women: lack-luster ineffectual zealots. But are Scalia and his ilk yet a danger to the living, breathing, growing documents of our Constitution and our Bill of Rights? Absolutely. This man, and others like him, have been granted incredible power which may be used for good or ill. And so it is up to us, individually and collectively, to use our greatest asset and privelege - our vote - to insure that in future those whom we elect will appoint men and women whom believe as we do. That indeed, ALL men and women (of all ethnic, religious, gender and sexual orientation) are CREATED EQUAL!


Initial Report Backed Seizing Reporters' Tapes Of Scalia Speech To Conservative Christians
by The Associated Press

Posted: June 20, 2007 - 7:00 pm ET

(Hattiesburg, Mississippi) Federal marshals broke no laws when seizing tape recordings from reporters from The Associated Press and the Hattiesburg American during a 2004 speech by Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, an initial agency investigation found.

The marshals service's general counsel "reviewed the allegations and determined that there were no violations of the laws," according to a summary report of the April 2004 investigation, according to the Hattiesburg newspaper.

Later that year, the Marshals Service acknowledged in a lawsuit settlement that it violated the federal Privacy Protection Act, which protects journalists from having their work product seized by the government.

The conflict began in April 2004 when a deputy marshal demanded that the two reporters erase recordings of Scalia's remarks at Presbyterian Christian School.

In one portion of the speech to law students at the university Scalia brought up the issue of homosexuality. (story)

"Question comes up: is there a constitutional right to homosexual conduct? Not a hard question for me. It's absolutely clear that nobody ever thought when the Bill of Rights was adopted that it gave a right to homosexual conduct. Homosexual conduct was criminal for 200 years in every state. Easy question."

The reporters had not been told before the speech that they could not use tape recorders, and their news organizations sued the agency.

The lawsuit ended in September 2004 with the Marshals Service acknowledging the law violation and saying it had created new procedures for working with the media. Under the new policy, marshals have "no role or responsibility regarding photography, audiotaping and videotaping at such events except when the personal security and safety of the federal judicial officer is believed to be in jeopardy."

The newspaper had requested the investigation report and other documents in 2004 under the Freedom of Information Act, but the Marshals Service had refused. The Justice Department ordered the papers released last month.

Leonard Van Slyke, the newspaper's attorney, said the documents don't say whether disciplinary action was taken in the case.

"I would have expected there to be some kind of disciplinary action taken against the marshal or her supervisor because they failed to understand their duty," Van Slyke said.

During Scalia's speech, the deputy marshal, Melanie Rube, took a digital recorder from AP reporter Denise Grones when Grones resisted her demand to erase recordings of the justice's remarks. Grones then showed her how to erase the recording. Hattiesburg American reporter Antoinette Konz then surrendered her tape and, after the speech, got it back only after erasing it in front of the marshal.

The marshal said she acted at the direction of Scalia.

The exchange occurred in the front row of the school auditorium while Scalia spoke on the Constitution. Scalia later apologized and said he would make it clear in the future that recording his remarks for the use of the print media would not be a problem.

Also among the documents are copies of apologies that Scalia sent to Konz and Grones.

The release of the documents is a victory for the newspaper and the public, Van Slyke said.

"I think it's important that the record be complete and the public have access to what actually happened and the statements people made," Van Slyke said.

©365Gay.com 2007

of Sinners, Faith and Forgiveness

I was praying today for guidance, and especially for Mark, who is at present attempting to have Anna and her husband reimburse us for the expense of our moving, as was promised almost two years ago as an enticement for Mark to take this job in New York City. I've had no little concern for this, as many of you know, for all of the tangible assets we own are still at risk of loss, sitting in a warehouse and potentially rotting in Los Angeles. While they represent our memories, as well as our few assets, even should they have to be sold for us to live, we need at least to have them made available, and in reasonable condition, for us to do so.

While praying I also asked Our Lord for some comfort regarding my upcoming surgery, for which I cannot receive prior to its implentation the Sacrament of the Sick, not knowing any clergy here who may not ask me to revoke my belief in my marriage before administering me the blessing. Despite many whom believe as I do within the Church, the current hostility towards gay Catholics and Gay clergy, even to interferrence with our civil rights (once forbidden by the very Church now practicing it so strongly) makes finding a confessor and spiritual director almost impossible without an introduction.

I use the Jerusalem Bible as my translation of choice for Holy Scripture. The accuracy of the passages is by far the most reliable available, for the text is translated directly from the original Hebrew and Greek texts, not from one of the many translations made centuries after the events. The scripture fell open to the Introduction to St. Paul and I chose to read. Knowing Jesus as I do, I believed that there was a message even in the introduction for me - and it is so beautiful that I wanted to share it with you.

"The danger at Colossae {they are speaking about heresy in referencing "danger"} was due to the basically Jewish (Col. 2:16) speculations they had taken up about the celestial or cosmic powers. These were the powers thought to be responsible for the regular movement of the cosmos, and the speculations about them, much influenced by Hellenistic philosophy, attached an importance to these powers that threatened the supremacy of Christ. Paul accepts these cosmological premisses and, far from expressing any doubts about these powers, he associates them with the angels of Jewish tradition, 2:15; all he is concerned about is to show their subordinate place in the scheme of salvation. Their task had been to 'mediate' the Law, and to administer it and that is now accomplished: Christo Kyrios, Christ the Lord, has established a new order of things and he now governs the cosmos. Raised up to heaven he is above all the cosmic powers and has stripped them of their ancient dignities, 2:15. Because he is the Son, the Father's image, he was their lord already when the world was made; now in the new creation he is their confirmed and absolute master, for gather into him is the pleroma, the fullness of Being, that is to say the fulness of both God and all that exists through Gods creative power. 1:13-20."

Why are we still fighting about science and what the Bible says! We're told right here not to do that very thing. While this is the intoduction it is simply describing and explaining the many letters Paul wrote to various Christian sects scattered throughout Roman cities. This passage comforted me on two levels. First, Paul, formerly Saul, was a Roman. I wish he'd kept his name, Saul - so much more elegany and masculine! But, I sidetrack us. Paul understood implicitly the culture to which he was speaking becuase it was his culture and he did not 'dilly daly' about the details - neither how the cosmos moved, (nor the number of angels on a pin head, as I think of it) - but quite simply writing that it didn't matter anymore whatsoever how the cosmos moved because God already has ALL of it covered. We can learn, then, that whether the world was created through natural selection as Darwin suggests or in the seven days of Genesis, it is God whom is responsible. Whatever our human understanding is, and we have been shown by history time and time again how limited our vision, our fullness of understanding, truly is, God already knows all sides and has incorporated them all into his Being. (Wow! What a relief this would have been to Galileo if this Jerusalem Bible translation and notes had been available, he might have kept his thumb and been able to publish.)

Also, Paul, as a Roman, knew all the political games. I think it's Jesus suggesting I ask, and I have, Saint Paul's intercession in understanding the political games of the Church today. It hasn't quite struck me from my seat in a lighting bolt just yet, but it is a little comfort. God has already seen and known and understood this, the persecution of his Gay sons and daughters, even by his Church, and will show his justification for us and to us.

I have also been frightened of the upcoming minor surgery because I'm unable to confess and have the blessing of the sick - and so what I know is also being said here on a personal level to me is that Jesus, and God his Father, already know my heart and have taken all this into consideration. I need not fear, either for myself, or for Mark and Joy, even should anything happen to me.

I also went on to read in Romans as my curiosity was peaked, and I read from 3:25-31, 4:1-18. Wow, again. Jesus is granting me so much comfort I hardly dare share it with you! I hope you will read it and if possible choose the J.B. translation, as it is the most accurate translation of the ancient texts. (It's imprimatur and nihil obstat are quite clearly printed following the title page, should this concern anyone reading whom is Catholic.)

Paul is speaking to the sect in Rome about the faith of men. He uses Abraham as the example, for he says this is whom we're all descended from, and it is oh so very comforting. He reiterates that scripture says:

"Abraham put his faith in God, and this faith was considered as justifying him. If a man has work to show, his wages are not considered as a favour, but as his due: {I'm directly consoled, and even teased a bit, about Mark's situation here! I could hug both Paul and Jesus for this bit of hope and humor!} but when a man has nothing to show except faith in the one who justifies sinners, then his faith is considered as justifying him."

This is the embrace of a Creator whom deeply loves me, us; despite sins and failures. He squeezes us all tightly, as a parent its children, brushes away tears and holds us all to remind us and take away our fear that by not always fulfilling the Law as others say it is required, God still knows our hearts and our faith and accepts these without reservation. The only proviso being our faith is genuine.

Paul writes further:

"Not justified by the Law."

"The promise of inheriting the world was not made to Abraham and his descendants on account of any law but on account of of the righteousness which consists in faith. If the world is only to be inherited by those who submit to the Law, then faith is pointless and the promise worth nothing. Law involves the possibility of punishment for breaking the law - only where there is no law can that be avoided.* That is why what fulfills the promise depends on faith, so that it may be a free gift and available to all of Abraham's descendants, not only those who belong to the Law but also those who belong to the faith of Abraham who is the father of all of us."

"...Punishment for breaking the law - only where there is no law that can be avoided!" This is what I have been trying to say all along, and for which and why satan was and is, if I may be blunt, hell bent, to cause me to doubt my own faith, the faith taught me by the Church: that in a matter of personal conscience I am free to follow my conscience. My faith that I am acting morally and as a righteous man in my commitment to my marriage to Mark is justified; the law cannot exist, the law cannot exist, which can be more important than my faith; my faith is the right and holy act I believe it to be. My faith that Mark acts nobly within the guidelines of his own faith, which is different from mine on many points is insignificant (i.e. angels on pin heads!); for here his faith is clearly established as being just as valid and genuine, perhaps more so, than mine: for it is far more childlike, and therefore pleasing, to our Father, if we are to listen to the words Jesus spoke elsewhere in the NT. Mark just believes in his redemption, and did not need to have Paul or Jesus confirm for him that he is loved and saved in any scripture passage today. And so it is with our daughter, too. It is enough now that I know that I and her Dad showed her Jesus is her saviour, she will find her footing with him, too. I have not failed her in this matter.

It also says in scripture: "...faith, hope and charity, and the greatest of these is love." It is an amazing thing to be freed of death, not only because of God's love, but because of my hope, my faith. I ask God to never allow me to doubt my faith.

Now, if my faith were only the size of a mustard seed, which apparently it's not and still needs to grow quite a bit to reach even such a large diameter as this, than I know we will be safe with Jesus, my Lord, no matter what. Even if we do not get our things back. And even if that will be very difficult on me. But for now I choose to believe that Paul is reminding me that Jesus will not leave me or my precious Mark without the means to create a livelihood for our family - and that certainly includes Mark being reimbursed for the nearly two years of hard work in which he has been greatly cheated of his full due.

Jesus, as with the movement of the cosmos that so concerned the Colossians, has seen and understood and brought us fully into his Being: our little problems are watched over and so many blessings are given. I have received in my long marriage to Mark the great blessing of not being alone all these years, as i had expected, but of being given a family - and of being loved by a man who knows all my faults and takes a chance on me anyway. If mark is capable of so much for me, than to paraphrase, how much more must God.

* Lit. 'For law brings anger whereas (var. 'for') where there is no law there is no lawlessness either'

Warm Blue Bellies

This afternoon I returned home rather tired and cold, and earlier, I think, than the cats expected me; for they were curled up in separate spots sleeping and did not make their usual leap for the door when I came through. So, I thought, we shall not fight this groggy, cold nap which is creeping over me, too, even while still bundled in my overcoat and carrying case. Athenais and Bouvier greeted me sleepily and then, Miss A., in all her demure charm, allowed me the pleasure of holding her upside down and nuzzling her nose and face with my nose and whiskers. She purred - a very good sign for nappers like us - and so I set her on the bed where she curled up and returned to her garden of dreams.

Greeting Beau Beau with a scratch on his strong brow and along the scent glands each side of his mouth, I removed my coat and case and put on a 'sleepy' tee shirt, dragged the phone into the bedroom and climbed in next to m Miss A. and called M. Bouvier, who soon joined us; and at last we all napped. Or at least they did, for every time I began to doze the phone would ring again. At last, unable to drift off, I put out a hand to each of my precious little charges, sleeping in blue balls of fur side by side, and gently, ever so tenderly, stroked their fur and slipped my hands into the warmth of their bellies. They curled more deeply about my hands and for a few minutes we three were as one and I felt as if I were a cat myself, with the most precious of kittens in my care.

As I searched their faces with my eyes I saw them each as they once were, so small and infinitely tiny, babies with only one need, to be nursed and loved; loved with a rough tongue wash and a teat full of warm milk. And the warmth of it all was gentle and lovely and good and touched my heart; and I knew there is a God, a Creator and a Lover of such magnificent generosity that He could give to me such wealth.

It is a marvelous responsibility to Love; yet for every moment of tenderness there will be a heart-ache that will rip the soul from it's very tabernacle. It is only these small glimpses, the feeling of a heart's beat, the breath of little blue cats, hands held tenderly against each warm belly and a little head resting near to my own face, that remind me of the worth of the pain.

Zoo-ology!

We won't die secret deaths anymore!

The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it...

in the Heat of the Night

My dearest, sweetest Athenais is in 'heat', or more correctly, estrus. I just grieve for her discomfort. She first becomes rather affectionate, and then begins pacing, and bleating. It is not a 'meow', nor is it it a hiss or snarl, it is, like a sheep, a bleat. If you or I were to say 'hmm' and add a slight clearing of the throat to it, that would be close, but not the sound exactly. There is no sound that is like it, exactly. I believe even amongst cats, no one cries in estrus quite like our dear Athenais Sophie!

I cannot imagine what her tiny body is going through - it wants to make babies, of course. Everything in Athenais' tiny wee body is crying out to perform its natural duty of reproduction. She wants to mate, not for the enjoyment of love making, but because her core being, down to her very molecules, is crying out to reproduce offspring, to perpetuate here gene pool, to give the world more kittens!

I will say that Miss Athenais would make a magnificent mother. Should she have a litter, she would do everything to make certain each little blind ball of scarcely any fur was fed her warm rich milk from her swollen teats, and each then licked and washed to a fare-the-well before curling about her wee charges and sleeping as they slept with her. If one should stir or cry, she would nuzzle the bambino, two or three good swipes of her corse tongue, and push it towards a milk engorged nipple; or let it fall back asleep with it's siblings.

This is the mother my dearest Athenais would make, and somehow, despite the agreement I've signed and the knowledge of countless unwanted kittens who shall never have homes, when I hear my dearest litter girl bleat for her children to be I want nothing more than to rush out and find her a sire.

I will not of course. I will keep my agreements, and as soon as finances permit, I will have my darling Athenais spade. Some fewer kittens will come into an unwelcoming world - and that is a good thing.

But someday, in our life after together, we will do things naturally, and my sweet natured, energetic and life bursting-out-of-her darling Athenais will have the chance to give birth and nurture as she was intended by God's grace to do...

Until then, Athenais and I will bear what we must, together, until this estrus has passed!

of Angels and Men in the Snow

There was magic everywhere. I simply do not have any other description for the experience. Mark and I, with some determination, because we are still not used to the cold, and the slippery conditions made the possibility of a fall and a secondary back injury all the more likely; nevertheless, we went only forward. Leaving the car parked on Fifth Avenue we ventured across the snow-plowed streets and into the Park. The Park. Central Park. It, I suppose, carries many hundreds of thousands of stories in it's memories; but today it was building new ones for me and for Mark.

There was some disagreement, Mark wanting to stick to what he saw was a cleared path, but which limited severely what we'd be able to see, to take in, and I do mean 'take in', because it quickly became about bringing the beauty of the snow covered lawns and buildings into our spiritual beings.

Mark and I climbed a short walk from the car drive near 72ndStreet and came across a great snow covered lawn. Off to one side stood a lovely old red brick building, it's slate roof steeply pitched and bereft of snow at all but the edges, its painted white wooden door and window frames gleaming, providing in the quintessential New England picture. We trudged forward across the new snow, leaving our unfortunate foot marks to spoil the smooth even coat of powdery white crystal ice. And then, for me, it happened. Joy! Just incredible joy! I laughed out loud for the first time, I think, in years, with utter and complete elation; and throwing my arms in the air I ran to Mark and swung my arms about him and gave him a big smacker, right on the mouth! "Darling, this is wonderful!" And waving my arms about, rather like the silly robot on 'Lost in Space' I imagine, I ran forward, snapping pictures, and truly happy, left all cares behind me, at least for a little time..



Ahead of us was the dome of a lovely building. Rising from lower ground than where we stood, it was the dome of the building which we saw best, rising above a long wooden arbor, covered with the twisted, dark trunks of winter's sleeping wisteria. How lovely, the deep dark mysterious branches against the purity of the fallen dusty snow.

Mark called me from the far right end of the arbor, where he had found for us a descent upon ice and snow covered stairs. We both, stepping sideways, and holdingthe old iron and wood rail, managed our way down. No falls! At the bottom we found that our domed building was in fact the back of the Concert Shell, and we paused to take in it's Beaux Arts Neo-classical beauty - then off I ran after Mark, who was cold, and wanting to keep moving, had trotted onwards towards the Bethesda Terrace. Mark had already reached the bottom of the staircase there, and was wandering through the passage, looking upwards all the while, at the newly restored Minton Tile ceiling, when at last I reached him again.

The bright and garish colored tiles are set against the somber brown stone of the terrace's walls and arches. But, as we walkedthrough the dark covered passage, one lost interest in the tiles as the excitement rose, from my heart to my head, pounding, it rose; for as you came to the second set of arches you sucked in your breath as the great water-works came into view, with the mighty angel, Bethesda, crowning the top of the lofty fountain. One could only pause, if one had any sense of beauty, and stare. She, Bethesda, let you know she was waiting there - for you.

The huge bronze and blue stone fountain stands some twenty odd feet or better above you, and Bethesda, herself, stands, wings spread wide as if just that very second she'd alighted, upon the top, holding her staff of lilies; and with a most gentle gesture of her other open hand she beckons us forward. So, forward we came. Where we had stood shoulder to shoulder and arm in arm beneath the brownstone arch, we let slip slowly our grasp, like rolled sleeves loosed and falling, down to our hands and then, gently, fingers parted as we both were drawn without hesitation to our Angel.

She is our angel, you know; she may have once been here to beckon the survivors of the Civil War of this Country, calling those battle weary and broken souls to her healing waters. She surely beckoned those lonely men toward her then as gently and surely as she now, today, calls to me and to my Mark. She is ours now; she is now, for this time, the Angel of AIDS, the Angel of Hope. Hope pushing through the despair, as Tony Kushner wrote: "This disease will be the end of many of us, but not nearly all, and the dead will be commemorated and will struggle on with the living." And, I knew at that moment we were far from alone on the icy cold snow covered plaza, me with my dearest Mark. No, with us all about us were the hundreds of thousands of the lost, all gathered again, hand in hand with us, looking to Bethesda for comfort and for news of God... and it was a moment of utter peace, joy, despair, tears, abandonment and longing. Every emotion I've ever felt in my dark lonely trip with my companion spectre, AIDS, was suddenly filling me, and it was then, without doubt, that Bethesda turned to me and smiling, said, LIVE! I couldn't hear her, and I did not see her lips move, but I was sure of understanding: I felt deeply in my soul the Word. I knew, it was a call to life, a CALL to LIVE. To go on, and to BE GLAD, really glad, for each and every day I, we, still have to swallow cold snowy air in this great hapless city, hanging to the edge of a continent spinning around in space on this little planet, Earth.

And, so, I shook and loosed my grasp of my spectre, and I loosed the grasp of all my brothers who had gone before, and that was hard to do and it hurt, to lose them again; and as the great plaza cleared of the ghosts of the past I stood again presently and present with, Mark, and a few others tha were there hapenstance with us, bundled in brightly colored wraps. And Mark, who was feeling deeply the cold was suddenly hurrying away. My heart was torn, I wanted to stay, to call back my friends, my brothers lost to AIDS who were going, and weeping, tell my story of pain; but Bethesda, well, she laughed. I heard a clear strong bell, pealing out, like laughter. I know I did. Looking up Bethesda smiled, it seemed, to me, and in my heart I heard her: "Love! Love, now! Love him, Love Mark. Don't linger, Donnie, amongst the shadows here...."

I took a huge deep breath of crisp frozen air and scaning the hillside with my damp eyes, saw him, saw my Mark, climbing the path to the hill top. He was cold and alone and I wanted to be with him, to hold him and warm him. After him I chased, my camera still snapping photos along the way; but at last I reached him, sitting in the running car, old George we call it, trying to warm his hands. I took his hands, his beautiful hands, which have touched me for so many years, and I gently rubbed them to make the circulation warm him. And I remembered his hands, his hands of years, his hands which touch my body in intimate places when we make love. Touch me to scratch the unreachable itches!. Touch me, as his hands and arms embrace me when I'm filled with sorrow and cry. And, in a moment I saw how important and beautiful Mark's hands are, the hands he's given to me, to hold, to carry his ring, to grasp when we marry; and all that I have ever dreamed of having I suddenly knew I possessed now already. Completely! My great dear handsome Lover, Husband, Friend and the dearest Man ever there was, frail and full of strength, the Man who has given himself to me.

I promised Bethesda, sitting in that car, rubbing his cold fingers, that I will not forget the gift of our snowy day; that I will hold it in my heart always, and more, I will make it an act each day to care for and bless these his hands, this union, this bond, this marriage of Man and Man, of Mark and Me.

"You are fabulous creatures. and I bless you: MORE LIFE!

The great work does indeed begin, now, again, with each one of us. With mark and with Me. Blessings, Bethesda!

Angels in America, a Meditation

by Tony Kushner

THIS DISEASE
WILL BE THE
END OF
MANY OF US,
BUT NOT
NEARLY ALL,

And the dead will be
commemorated and will struggle
on with the living,

AND
WE
ARE
NOT
GOING
AWAY,

We won't die secret deaths

anymore.

The world only
spins forward,

WE WILL BE CITIZENS.
THE TIME HAS COME.

Bye now,

You are fabulous creatures,
and I bless you:

MORE LIFE.

THE
GREAT
WORK
BEGINS!

Artworks:
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Ghosts of Sutro Park, Enhanced Digital Photograph, 2003, D. Larson
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Vous has AIDS, Oil on Canvas, 36" x 48", 2001, D. Larson