In the gloaming


Lake Merritt Boat House, Oakland, CA

Here’s something to listen to as you read. (One day I’ll figure how to embed. I really will. For now, open in a new window & come back, eh? DianeCu has inspired me how to go ahead slice the YouTube page to the operable part of the music player, sans big visual. Here I was waiting to figure out how to do my own pretty media bar thingy. Cheers, Mother of Invention! And somebody tell me if I just ran afoul of YouTube’s link policy so I don’t bite the hand that’s feeding me the music! Which is a song of the same title as this post, from The Story‘s 1993 The Angel in the House.)

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.

8 thoughts on “In the gloaming”

  1. Party sounds delicious; I love enormous families with all ages having a grand time. Your kids are growing so fast; wow…

    How incredible a gift you are to local blogland !~! I celebrated once there too and it rocked.

    • Yes: totally amazingly, yes. My partner’s parents are radical theater people who married in the 1960s, had her (folding into two kids my partner’s mom had from a previous marriage; one adopted, for good measure–are you following so far?), then in the 1970s her dad left her mom to come out (motorcycle ride to SF, the works), then her mom thought, hey, two can play at that game, plus I’m a radical feminist! we’re all doing this anyway! it’s the logical extension of a thumb in the eye of patriarchy! hello, Sapphic sisterhood! So then they mended their fences, and in the 1980s my partner’s dad (now her mother’s ex-husband, right?) moved back into the family home after the kids were grown and gone and my partner’s mom had been through two or more tempestuous relationships with other feminist theater gals, rented a room from his ex-wife (they’re hippy theater people, right? not paupers, but close enough), and this is the state in which I found them all, 17 years ago when I first “met the parents.”

      A few years later I had the sweet pleasure of watching my new mother-in-law, then in her 60s, meet the woman who would become the love of her remaining life (also then in her 60s). Two leathery, creased, strong, silver-haired lionesses, dancing the waltzes of fresh love in the living room as my partner and I bussed the Sunday family dinner dishes with my brother-in-law and his partner, all four grandkids underfoot, figuring, by default: this is always how it ever is. Love and love, at every age.

      Heckuva thing.

  2. Wow this is amazing, and here I was thinking I was alone LOL! Her parents sound really amazing, and she is lucky. My mom and my step mom have been together for about 14 years, and it’s true, love can happen at any age.

    I am so happy to finally have heard of someone else who’s also a second gen. And yes I did follow ya on her family this time. Sounds like a crazy, but yet awesome household

  3. The gorgeous melody and harmony of the song is a wonderful accompaniment to your writing. Thank you for both the music and your words.
    Your blog is equally appreciated.

    btw- I’ll be more than happy to share with you the simple secret to embedding you tube videos. 🙂

  4. Proudsecondgen, you are so not alone! COLAGE has a button for you (and my partner) that reads, “I’m a bothie!” Meaning, both your parents are queer and so are you. (I think. Haveta check that, come to think of it). I can’t tell you how incredible it is to be raising these kids with this number of queer grandparents and a partner who knows what worked and didn’t, and what to do right this time around.

    And DianeCu, first, welcome! And second, thank you for urging me to figure out how to get what I needed, which was basically just the little bar thingy that makes the music go. I didn’t want the whole big (admittedly pretty enough) picture of their album hogging up the real estate if I could avoid it. 😉

    But thank you for the kind words, too.

  5. Bravo! Happy that you figured it out. 🙂
    And I missed you at BlogHer Food. Hope to finally catch up at BlogHer in San Diego.

  6. By the sounds of things on this blog you are both doing pretty amazing at raising those kids. They seem really well rounded and inquisitive. Another term for us that I’ve seen floating around on the net is second gen, but I like bothie better, its a way cooler term.

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