June 12, 1998 (#23), (and before ...)
Darlings, I've had an epiphany, but only mildly religious. Somewhat like a liturgical burp. And you know me, not very observing. Cabal who? Krishna murti? Gesundheit. Although I will confess a small attraction for a rousing jihad.
"Well Trudy," you say as you supress a tepid yawn, "what happened. " "Please don't leave out one bit," as you glance at your watch. Fine, be that way. I can be the bigger person - and don't you forget it.
So through odd circumstances I found myself in Kansas City Missouri by way of Montréal. Yes, do look surprised - I was. Not only was I in Kansas City, but in the converted chapel of an old girls' school. Not only was I in an ex-church, but attending a GLAAD Leadership Awards ceremony. Awe-inspiring.
Lucky for me, Absolut was sponsoring.
In addition to meeting simply lovely people - and to all of you who I met - please only say nice things, I swear they told me that the centerpieces could be taken home. Also, I didn't mean to overextend myself on the silent auction, it's just that that enormous silk screen would have looked smashing in my home. I apologize for hiding the other bids.
But epiphany, right. So while having met many very lovely and charming lesbians and gay men, I'd like to point out that the room was simply crawling - grap your hat pins - with straight people. And I don't mean tag alongs, I mean straight people who were winning awards for pushing the "gay agenda."
Little straight stars in our homo-universe. Blinking just as brightly as their brothers and sisters. Fighting to have unbiased textbooks and literature in schools. "Oh but Trudy, be serious, they were obviously being paid for their services." But NO, they were doing it because it was right.
I dropped my beads.
Near the end of the ceremony, a lovely Quaker couple were being honored as representatives of their church, also known as a society of friends. Honored for performing marriage ceremonies between two men and two women. With each other - well you know what I mean. At any rate, what a wonderful story they told.
It seems that when anyone presents themselves to be married by the Society of Friends, a committee is formed which meets with the prospective couple and discusses their commitment to each other blah blah blah and then reports back to the church at large with a recommendation.
In this instance the honored couple and another woman, approximately 80 years old were the committee interviewing two women members of the society who expressed their desire to be married.
After much discussion, everyone was left with no doubt of these two women's commitment to each other. The older woman spoke up though and said that while she blessed their union, would it be possible to call this something other than "marriage."
Accordingly, tears were shed and as the gentleman of the honored couple said, they were privileged to watch over the space of a couple of hours as the discussion continued, how even at 80, one can change their views in the face of something so obviously right.
Now, personally, marriage schmarriage. But what I found debilitatingly moving about this story was that it dealt with a church and changing opinions. The next thing you know, Leavenworth is going to set up a gay coffee house.
Boys and girls, things are changing ever so slowly, but they are moving forward.
Enough with the hankerchiefs - Ursula is doing well, hasn't called, but then again hasn't sent her rather large and threatening current boyfriend to "rearrange my internal decoration." Her quote on a previous matter. So I us made up.
Neighborhood news - I am in imminent danger of being cited by the lawn patrol. It seems that I haven't been spraying for dandelions and blister bugs and that - well, I suspect many of you know exactly what this might mean and will likely never visit again. Personally, dandelions aren't a problem in the city. I'm not equipped for this type of responsiblity - where's my Lancelot - I fear it's aging me faster than I would otherwise be aging myself.
Try and visit me when it rains.