Lesbian Dad

Even’ time


Lake Merritt Boat House, Oakland, CA

Lean times at the blog. Really lean. Which must mean: boom times offline! Really booming. Like, KA-booming. In the very wee post-work hours ‘twixt a Friday night & a Saturday morning, I figger I can pause and post this picture.

The kiddles were romping outdoors at their grandma’s 75th birthday party last weekend, an event of indescribable deliciousness. Grandma’s 75th was combined with that of her partner; both of ’em heavyweights in the Buddhist lesbian mafia; both of them feminist cultural sheroes of significance. The evening was peppered with toasts and a show-stopping interpretive dance–and yes, people actually do interpretive dances. Don’t think you can’t jam-pack one with both comedy and depth: you can, and I saw it right before my very eyes.

The whole shebang wrapped with a recital by my beloved (natch), which included some Bizet, some Weil, some Sondheim, and performance of a song written especially for the occasion by her dad, being the gay ex-husband of her mom (who is the 75 year old lesbian Buddhist feminist cultural icon). Are you following along? Yeah, I thought so. I was confused too, the first five years. One of the old friends who stood up to toast them said she needed a flow chart to make sense of the family, and I don’t blame her.

The grandkids, however, had nary a clue about the artistic and political powerhouses indoors reveling in the warmth of lives well- and long-lived. They ran and ran and ran as the sun set, held in that special safe space that all good loving grown-up events offer (the cats are distracted and happy! so the mice will eat birthday cake and play way past their bedtimes!).

Twilight indoors; twilight out; all parties, old and young, grateful for the blessings of the present moment. A gift to all.

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