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From the vault: The hitchin’ post

As seen in a San Francisco restaurant window, February, 2017.

[First published June 19, 2008. A little something about love.]

Fourteen years ago in July, I was on my first date with the woman who would eventually become my life partner and the mother of my children. How we first met is a lesbian cliché par excellence. No, it wasn’t on the softball field. Remember, the beloved is a femmy theater type. The other lesbian cliché. Right! A Women’s Studies class! (The colorful details surrounding that auspicious meeting are best saved for another time, or perhaps The Book, which, if I don’t just start referring to it somewhere it may never exist.) Now back to the business at hand, which is peeking in on our first date.

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First Pride

Mac-aloft-FirstPride-2005

First LGBTQ Pride, San Francisco, June 26, 2005

Quietly doing a (re)launch status check which, among other things, entails a review of the photo archives. Which in turn brings one to an image of she-what-made-me-a-Baba, proudly held aloft at our very first SF LGBTQ Pride, over a decade (and a world) ago. Outlaws, still, walking in the fresh footprints of the queer parent pioneers not a generation before us. Wonder at a maximum, parenthood in infancy, possibility ablaze.

 

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Let’s keep the moral arc bending toward justice

drmlkjr

“Martin Luther King Jr, Birmingham Alabama, 1963,” by Ernst Haas.

Quiet here of late, getting accustomed to resuming ordinary life, offline and on, in the wake of my dad’s return whence he came 92+ years ago.  The picture above and the links below repeat a post some years back in honor of the Revered Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose life has been such an inspiration to me.

Inspiration how? I came of political age working all my spare collegiate hours in a student group entitled the Martin Luther, King, Jr. Convocation Day Committee (lovingly referred to as the MLKCDC). When I dropped out of school for a nine month period, these spare hours numbered just about every hour beyond those spent at my job or learning how to be a lesbian with my sweetie, who was also a member of the group, conveniently. Every one of us had to read several of his books as a condition of membership, which means now that my bookshelf sports most of his oevre in original hardbacks, thankyouverymuch. It also means I am conditioned not just to parrot the lines of Dr. King’s greatest speeches, but to locate them in context. So: “the moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice” comes from Dr. King’s “How Long? Not Long” speech (sometimes also referred to as “Our God is Marching On”), delivered on the steps of the Montgomery, AL state capitol at the conclusion of the Selma to Montgomery March on March 25, 1965.

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D is for Dad

Go back
Pops, posing on the Central Freeway, San Francisco, CA.

Honestly, here’s what I remember. I remember us driving along the freeway, heading into San Francisco, around about the point where Interstate 80, the Bayshore Freeway, branches off due west and into central San Francisco. I remember us thinking somehow that this sign was hilarious, and then actually stopping the car along the freeway (was there some lane blocked off for road work that made this less insane, and actually plausible? one can only hope), hopping out, the both of us, him going to pose next to the sign (oh, yes, that is a four-plus story drop behind him), and me pulling out my trusty Olympus OM-1 SLR film camera, and taking this picture. Circa sometime in the late 1970s, maybe 1980.

What, exactly, about the sign we found hilarious, I can’t remember now. The thought that: DUH! If you are reading this right now of course you are going the wrong way. Maybe the lack of the article “the,” due, one must imagine, to the exigencies of getting the urgent message across: STOP, FERCHRISSAKES! Maybe also just the stark Puritanism of the statement, generally speaking.

Heaven only knows.

But I know that I have kept this photograph through the decades, a badge of his willingness to pretty much go along with anything that smacked of adventure with his daughters. A sign of his inextinguishable sense of humor. A reminder to try very hard never to take anything, even what seems like the gravest calamity, without a hint of mirth.

 

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Hard to put it into words

charolettecouldntaputitbetter
Precocious wordsmith, Berkeley, CA.

Events of the day, SCOTUS-wise, hard to put into words, but this one’s a start.

The above image came from the May, 2008 day the California State Supreme Court declared that our constitution protected all Californians’ right to enter into a legal marriage–regardless of which sex that Californian was. Here was the post then.

It has been five long, long years since then. But in another 25 or so days (procedural detail, but our Att’y General has been behind us all along), my brothers and sisters here will pick up where we all left off as of November 4, 2008.

Watch this space for more soon, when I can get more words together.

 

 

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