Live and Let...

This is perhaps the first time I’ve been compelled to write about something controversial. If you don’t agree with me, well that is certainly your right. I do not apologize for my views, I am only sorry that we do not see eye to eye. Perhaps it is because I’m about to celebrate my anniversary that I feel the need to blog on this….or perhaps I just care enough to speak out.

One June 24, 2011, something historic happened in New York, and it makes me proud to be from this state – even if my own Senator did not join the four brave Republicans who helped make it happen. I consider myself an Ally -- because despite that some would call me a feminist, I’m really just a humanist. I don’t care who people love – as long as they love honestly, sincerely, mutually, and fully. As long as their love hurts no one else, why should the gender of the couple be of concern to me? People, in general, deserve to be given the same rights as everyone else. As long as people are not hurting others, I fail to see why society needs to expend so much energy in concerning itself with who loves who and actively trying to stop those people from sharing the same rights as others who love one another. It’s amazing to me that so many people are concerned with the hearts of others. I just find it so depressing and unfathomable how people can be so blind to the heartache that must come from being denied rights simply because of who you are. We fought a war to stop that. We rioted to stop that. We watched men and women be beaten, arrested, even lynched because they dared drink from a fountain, look at a pretty woman, vote in an election, sit in the front of the bus. And now we want a woman to be denied health insurance because she keeps the house while her female partner of 20 years works to pay the bills. We want the bereft partner of a soldier who died in Iraq to be left penniless and without aid simply because he, too is male. We want to bar same-sex partners from being at the bedside of their hospitalized loved one because they cannot be named next of kin. There are something like 1,400 state and federal rights bestowed on married couples and those opposed to same-sex marriage want to deny their fellow taxpayers every single one of them whilst still reaping the benefits themselves. All because of chromosomes. I just can’t help asking myself why we care so much about denying others the freedoms that this country is built on. We came here to be free – and yet, we are not one of the 10 countries that allow same-sex unions.

Two quotes keep going through my mind that really drive home how strange this all is…

• “If you’re against gay marriage – don’t have one.”
• "Decades ago we told blacks they had to marry their own kind – now we are telling gays that they CAN’T marry their own kind. Bigotry is confusing.”

So many people have pointed out the troubles with those who are most loudly opposed to gay marriage – the conservatives who have cheated on their wives, engaged in inappropriate behaviors, and then lied about their indiscretions even as they railed loudly about the sanctity of traditional marriage and the risk gay marriage poses to family values. I do not understand. Especially when divorce rates are skyrocketing, people marry more often than they move, and children are growing up in ‘broken’ homes and in front of video games and glued to their text messages.

To some of these dissenters, I should not be married any more than a gay couple – and neither should anyone who suffers the agonizing pain of being infertile. Marriage, they say, is one man, one woman, so that they can bear children. My husband and I have made a conscious choice not to have children; others dear to me are unable to do so – are we, too, undermining the sanctity of marriage? Or are we allowed a pass simply because we have the right anatomical makeup to have children, even if we are unwilling or incapable of doing so?

The true irony here is that the bigots who are so concerned with the lives and doings of others that they cannot mind their own affairs are one of the reasons I choose not to bring children into the world.

In going back to recent events in NY, it is interesting that in order for the measure to pass, the Assembly added an amendment that protects churches from discrimination lawsuits if they refuse to perform same-sex marriages. Fine. I take no issue with this – churches are built on their own beliefs and while I wish that it were different, this is not a blog on religion. Protect the churches – I’m fairly certain that most gay couples would not want to be wedded by such a church as it is.

That amendment leads to my If I Ran the Zoo moment. If I were put in charge, I would ask the government to get out of the marriage business altogether. I would rescind my marriage license in favor of a Civil Union license and ask all other married folks to do the same. Gay, straight, bi-racial, childless, or parenting – have the government only issue civil unions and be done with it. Those who wish a marriage can seek out the spiritual institution most aligned with their belief system and go through the rites and ceremonies if they so choose. All would have the same rights, all would be equal – if we will not allow gays to be married because of the word 'marriage' and what it means in the Bible, then have the government stop using the word for ALL formal, right-giving unions. Leave marriage to the churches if you want to define it using religion. Something tells me, however, that this would be seen as ‘giving something up’ and it would be no more welcome than gay-marriage. They won’t give up what they see as their right, but yet they won’t give those rights to anyone who is not like them. Sigh.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We need to stop making gays – and others -- focus on the endless pursuit while never achieving the actual happiness.

“I decided I would vote ‘yes’ if I ever had the chance to do it again and that was long before Andrew Cuomo was elected governor and it was long before anyone could predict my political future. No deals were made. I made a deal with myself and that I would be true to my heart and true to myself. That’s the deal I made…How do you say that you believe in freedom and equality and go into the workplace and see somebody that you do the same thing with and have equal responsibility with in the workplace and say we’re here we are working together but you are not equal? I am more equal than you. How do you say that?”

Sen James Alesi (R), Monroe County – First Voter

“We reached a new level of social justice this evening”

Gov. Andrew Cuomo

Reluctant Remembering...

Tomorrow is August 11.

To most, it isn't really a big deal -- summer is in full swing, but there's a touch of autumn in the air. Just a touch, in the evenings, when the breeze comes in and the summer sun has set. It is the last weeks of freedom before school (or work) starts up again for those who have tied ourselves inexorably to education for the short or long term. It is the dog days of August....full of sun and surf, heat and happiness, blue skies and beautiful evenings.

For me, though, August 11 has another side to it. A dark and hazy side that I can't remember and yet can never forget. It is, in many ways, my own personal 9/11. Oh, no one died, but my life changed forever on that day and I cannot help but wonder at how life unfolds itself into the path it follows.

It was on August 11 -- at 6:38 in the evening -- that everything changed. Before that I was just another insecure graduate student trying to figure out how to get through school and life without ending up alone or jobless when the time came to pay up. I was home on summer break, working for my dad, and spending time with my recently married sister, my brother, and my folks. One way I was not typical, however, is that I had just gotten my license that June. I hadn't needed it before -- working with dad and my brother and going to college where there was no point to having a car.

So, a newly licensed graduate student driving her gently used, hers-for-only-ten-days car into the village to hang out with her brother. We would watch movies and play games much like we always did. I had a 6-pack of Mountain Dew on the passenger seat and a huge plant in the back seat. I don't remember why, other than it was going in my brother's place. Three quarters of a mile from home, I came on the same four way stop that I always came to when I drove that direction, which was 90% of the time. Sometimes I went straight, sometimes I turned. Both routes took about the same time and I honestly am not sure which one I was going to take that evening.

All I know is that I can't remember anything. Except for maybe one thing -- the deep metal groaning sound as they took the roof off my car some 45 minutes later. And even that I can't be sure of. I learned later what had happened and most of you know -- a drunk lawyer with a suspended license driving his wife's car slammed into my car at a right angle. He hadn't even slowed down for the stop sign and when my car came to a rest it was 20 feet away and in a ditch. The passenger side of my Ford Tempo was unmarked. The driver's side was mauled and dented and crushed. Any harder, it would have flipped and likely broken my spine. If my window had been closed, my head would have hit it.

But, none of those things happened and I carried on. I have carried on for fifteen years, now.

Fifteen years.

For fifteen years I've dealt with it and done the best I could. I had PT for awhile, I went to a chiropractor for awhile (she told me I had chronic whiplash and twisted hips), I take pain medication only when I can't stand it anymore, and I take hot baths and showers often.

Most of the people I spend any time around know about the accident, and they may not realize that I'm loathe to bring it up most of the time. It's just that it's such a part of my life and I often feel the need to explain why I move around a lot, why I sometimes limp, why I lose my bubbly nature here and there, why doing anything for any length of time is hard. I'm just in pain and tired. The recent breast reduction surgery was a direct result of this chronic pain. I've always been a little heavy up top, but I don't know as I would ever have done anything about it without the suggestion and support of my husband and the excellent insurance through work. It has helped. I still feel pain regularly, but it comes slower now (though feels more strong, but I may just be adjusting).

But, on August 11, I will still be remembering how my life changed. Over the years I've gotten angry and sad alternately at various times, but on this date, every year, I just get a little sad. I remember that I don't remember what it was like to not have pain. I remember being good at limbo. I remember carrying my sister around. I remember my first car. I am not depressed, by any means. I have so much in my life to be thankful for -- wonderfully vibrant friends, a loving and supportive family that is together in more ways than one, a beautiful home that I love filled with furry children who make me laugh. I have a great job, overall good health, good prospects. I have a wonderful husband who is always supportive. I live in a beautiful area that has so many fun things to do in it. And it just keeps getting better -- for even in the last six months, I have come to find close friends at work that have filled a void I didn't realize I had. In short, I love my life.

Just...forgive me a little sadness for what might have been if I had been left physically whole. If someone hadn't violently changed the course of my life through carelessness and addiction. If I could have moved on differently in that one tiny way. If, somehow, I could still limbo.

Just give me that moment and then, like a summer storm, the clouds will pass and the sun will shine again.

-T