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.