Pen and Ink

Politcal potpourri.

There are so many things to comment on from the political world this week. And just think, it's only Tuesday.  So here I go.

On Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez: Well, it sure took him long enough. This has been coming on for months. The latest of the Bushies to fall depart. That's what arrogance will get ya.

On Senator Larry Craig: "I did nothing wrong."  Right. Sure. Larry, you went into a men's room, started tapping your foot, put your hand under the wall of the stall into the next one, and peered into the crack between the walls.  I'm not one to cruise for sex in bathrooms, but this doesn't sound to me like he was just there to do his "business."  After he was caught, he plead guilty.

So, the guy's gay and closeted (and butt-ugly, too). So many are. But he's one of the ones who's aligned himself with the conservatives and would deny us GLBT folk equal rights.

Another closet case brought down. Gotta love it.

On an "invincible" Democratic ticket: Everyone's favorite octogenarian Commie, Fidel Castro, has pronounced a Clinton-Obama ticket "invincible." Now Fidel is hardly a good barometer of US politics, but I think he's on to something. I've often thought that Hil and Barack would make an interesting pair. She'd have to be prez because her ego wouldn't allow anything else, and he's got some learnin' to do anyway. Both of them are trailblazers, to be sure. It's a ticket I think I could vote for.

On the ultra-conservative Bush administration: This from the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force -- the federal government is proposing regulations that would effectively kill adult social-networking sites. This is being done under the guide of fighting child pornography. The regulations would in part allow the attorney general to conduct warrantless searches at will on targeted sites' records, including visitors' personal information. There are few safeguards over what the FBI can do with the information it obtains. You have until September 10 to object to these regulations, and the Task Force, Inc., urges you to do so. It's easy and essential.

There's nothing wrong with adult-networking sites. Hell, it's where I met John. It's just another attempt by this administration to limit our freedoms.  Check out the Task Force and let your voice be heard.

Growing older with family.

Just five minutes ago I finished Armistead Maupin's Michael Tolliver Lives. It's a follow-up (not a sequel, as I read it) to his Tales of the City series of books, the last of which, Sure of You, was published in 1989.

(For th uninitiated, Tales of the City, which began as a newspaper column, are the fictionalized accounts of a group of characters -- gay, straight and everything in between -- in San Francisco. Not just characters, but family members, of the "chosen" variety. The series began in the 1970s and concluded in the late 80s. Movies of the first three books were ultimately made, thanks to Showtime.)

"Mona," "Mary Ann" and "Michael" from the Tales of the City miniseries

This last book brings the tales up to today, although it is written from the point of view of just one character, the lovable gay man Michael. (The previous books were written from the perspectives of a number of the central characters.)

A central theme of the book is aging. A child of the 70s now facing his late 50s, the mortality of parents, and how we, as middle-aged people, interact with the younger generation.

I sat in the comfortable leather chair in my family room as I finished off the book. Opposite me, sleeping on the sofa, was Mike, a man who has been a significant part of my life for nearly 20 years. No longer romantic partners, we are still linked in many ways. Probably always will be.

Just before sitting down for a rare mid-day reading session, I had enjoyed a phone conversation with Drew. If I were to ever write my own version of Tales of the City, Drew and Chris would be central characters. They're family.

My 45th birthday is days away. The fortieth didn't really bother me, but this one is making me much more reflective about life and families and the future.

(This is becoming one of those posts that just seems to wander with with an elusive endpoint. It also feels like a paper I would write as a college English major.)

The fabulous Olympia Dukakis as Ana Madrigal

I keep thinking about how to keep family close, if not geographically, but emotionally, spiritually. In Michael Tolliver Lives, Ana Madrigal, the matriarch of the family, suffers a stroke and is hospitalized. The entire family surrounds her, just as they always have.

That's what I want. It's what gives me comfort day after day, knowing that family is with me. It's what makes life worth living.

(If you haven't read the series, do pick them up. For me, it's mind candy that never goes stale.)

Feeling homesick.

Last night I went on a stroll through the Internet. It started on the NPR website. I listen to it in the mornings and wanted to read a little about the on-air personalities. That got me thinking about WCRB, the wonderful classical radio station in Boston. For me, WCRB and WQXR in New York are the absolute best classical stations. I was excited to see that the former is now broadcasting over the net, and as I write this, I'm listening!

WCVB's Natalie Jacobson

Then I started poking around the sites for the Boston TV stations. I had heard that Natalie Jacobson, the longtime news anchor at WCVB, the ABC affiliate, had retired from the station. So I went to read about that. Then I went looking for the news operation at WLVI, which is now the CW affiliate. I used to love their 10 p.m. newscast. It had terrific on-air talent, and since it was an hour in length, the show had a really nice pace. Not at all rushed like most news programs.

I was really sad to learn that the station's been sold to Sunbeam, which owns Channel 7 both in Boston and South Florida. They've got a really crappy, flashy news program, which has now replaced the 10 p.m. newscast of WLVI. Back in December, they summarily dumped the entire news division of WLVI. Jack Hynes, the longtime anchor of the show who had retired and only occasionally came back for special appearances, apparently ended the newscast with some harsh words about the sale of the station.

(I know you're thinking, "who cares about this shit," but...well...it's my blog. I'm being entirely self-indulgent and whiny.)

Anyway, all of this made me homesick for Boston. I lived there for 17 years; at this point, it's the majority of my adult life. I love the weather here and I have a fabulous job, a great boyfriend, a best friend I will see to the grave, and some good friends. But I miss the cosmopolitan nature of Boston. I miss the city itself, the politics, the media, the beat of the place. For me, it's still the most beautiful city in the country, and still holds a spell over me, a connection that started when I first saw the place when Martin moved there in 1985.

WLVI's Karen Marinella

I miss Laura Carlo on WCRB in the morning. I miss Karen Marinella on the 10 O'Clock News, and Natalie (and her former co-anchor and long-time husband, Chet Curtis). I miss the Boston Globe (yeah, I can read it online, but it's not the same). I miss the Improper Bostonian, a weekly newspaper/magazine-thing. I miss the T with it's unique smell. I miss the Public Gardens in summer, and wandering the shops of Newbury Street.

I miss seeing Chris and Drew all the time. I want to see Martin and Michael, Martha and Jurgen, David and Ben, Andy and his new boyfriend, Mark and Zane (I got to see them just last month), Jose and Brian, Paul (even though he's in DC now). Nan, Pammy, Bev, Sistah (a frequent reader of this blog), Dorene, and others with whom I worked and continue to be in touch with. I haven't even met Sistah's and Dorene's kids!!

Happily, I'm visiting in a few weeks, but I'll only be there for about two days before heading up to Maine for the weekend. I'll get to spend time enjoying the city with John and Cary, and then see a lot of the guys in Maine for the weekend). I'm hoping to see Martha and Jurgen, and I do have to sit with my financial advisor.  (What I really need to do, though, is impose on Chris and Drew and ask to stay for an entire week sometime next year.)

What I don't miss is the winter weather. Cold, gray, rainy, snowy. Yuck. It lasts too long.  But yet, there are days when it might be worth it. Maybe one day, some years from now, I'll go back.  When this current job is done (at least five years from now), I think about starting my own consulting company. Maybe I can have a place here and a place there. (I can dream, can't I?)

I live in Florida now. But Boston is still home.

(I know that after reading this, I will get an email from Christopher telling me that I'm welcome home anytime. They've been trying to get me back for two years now.)

Some day guys, maybe some day.

Leather daddies and Richard Dawson.

Disclaimer: before reading this post, read this carefully. In writing this, I am merely relating my casual reactions to something that people take seriously. I mean no disrespect to the institution or the people involved.

Did you hear the ground tremble in South Florida last Sunday? I did something I never do: I went to church.

Cary called me earlier in the week and asked for a big favor. He said he wanted to check out the gay church in Fort Lauderdale, but didn't want to go alone.  Being the ever-faithful sidekick, I said sure.

I read about the place on the web. Three services on Sunday? That's a big congregation, especially during summer in Florida.

We chose the middle service and got dressed nicely in our chinos and neatly pressed shirts. In retrospect, we didn't need to dress up.  It was a very casual service. Shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops...pretty much everything went.  There were even the two leather daddies in full regalia. They looked like they had just left a night at the Ramrod (a leather bar that's reputation is highly exaggerated). It was a funny sight watching these two guys stand up in the front of the church taking communion. 

The service itself was different for me. Very Catholic, without being Catholic. Growing up in a mainstream Protestant denomination, I am not used to all of the rituals of the Catholic church. 

I also wasn't used to the contemporary nature of this service and it's use of technology. There were graphics, very peppy music and more than just an organ or a piano. Sometimes it was so contemporary it felt like a game show, with music kicking in after a particular round.  I was waiting for Richard Dawson to show up.

The people were nice enough and overall the place was friendly. Is it for me? Probably not.

Roving idiot.

Since I haven't written in the past week, it's time to catch up on some political news from the past week.

I'm talking about the departure of the Bush pit bull, Karl Rove.

So Karl's packing it in and going back to his cave in Texas huh? He wants to spend time with his wife and family?  Oh, isn't that nice.

Does anyone really believe this shit?

No one can convince me that this guy, who's been Shrub's puppet-master forever, is really going to ride off quietly into the sunset. I just don't buy it. Look at Karen Hughes, is former political advisor.  She went to be with her family and lo and behold, she's hopping on and off Air Force One with regularity. 

Oh please.

This guy isn't going anywhere.  You know he's going to be on the phone with the Village Idiot at least once a day, pulling the same strings he's been pulling for years.

Once again, they think we're stupid.

Mind/body connection.

For the past two months, my colleagues at work and I have been interviewing extensively. Not for new jobs, but for people to join our team. Right now, we have about eight positions to fill.

It's tough work. Filling one job is easy. You look for the person with the best skills and with the best chemistry to fit in with the rest of the team. But when you're creating a team, you not only have to match a candidate with the existing team, but you have to stack them up to all of the other candidates for all the other positions.

See what I mean about hard work?

The whole thing got to me on Thursday. You see, our HR department has a totally antiquated formula for how it comes up with salary offers. The formula pays no attention to market rates for positions, nor does it even take into consideration what a person is making in their current job.

Right now, we have four offers pending. All have come back insultingly low. Generally, they've been coming in below what someone makes. That's bad no matter what industry you're in. But in my world, people switch jobs every 18-24 months and never ever even make a lateral move. There's money to be made in fundraising.

So I'm doing battle with our HR department. I love the VP of HR and her boss both, but we're at odds right now. They know the policy sucks and have a consultant working on alternatives. But the new policy recommendation is about six months away. Doesn't help me.

So what does this have to do with mind/body connection, you ask?

It all came to a head for me on Thursday and I was really upset. And when I get upset, it makes me nauseous. After work on Thursday, I met John and Cary for a bite to eat at Rosie's, one of our local homo hangouts. I ordered a chicken salad sandwich.  Mistake.

I would up being in and out of the loo all night, and then stayed home on the sofa all day Friday. Yesterday, I took it easy and only ate bland foods -- a bagel for breakfast and pancakes for dinner.

Then I made another mistake. Chocolate fudge cake last night in celebration of John's BD.

I'm feeling it again all over this morning.

Originality.

Sorry, dear readers, for not writing anything original for a bit of time. Life's been busy.

But bear with me...I'm hoping to post in the next few days. Of course I will comment on the Karl Rove resignation. I'm also working on a piece called "Leather Daddies and Richard Dawson."  I'm writing that one in my head right now.

Gotta love a parade.

Kevin, who writes Actorschmactor, posted this on his site, so I decided to do the same. This comes from The Onion, so no other explanation is necessary.

GRAND PLAINS, NE—A tight-knit rural Midwestern farming community commemorated the demonization of homosexuality Sunday with its annual Gay Shame Parade, a three-decade-old tradition that has become a cornerstone of the town's cultural identity.

 

The second-place float in this year's parade cruises down Grand Plains' picturesque Main Street.

"Every year, the whole town turns out to enjoy Nebraska's famous summer sunshine, sample foods, browse the craft bazaar, and shame homosexuals for their repulsive, decadent behavior," said Frank Mitchell, mayor of Grand Plains, NE and parade marshal. "This year was our biggest turnout yet. Everybody had so much fun ostracizing the gays."

The parade featured the usual assemblage of police cruisers, fire trucks, antique cars, and farm equipment, which local residents had draped in red-white-and-blue banners that read "Burn in the Eternal Flames of Hell!" City Councilman Fred Brandeen, this year's "Jesus," entertained children by making mock finger-wagging gestures of admonishment and passing out buttons bearing the parade's traditional slogan: "NO!" Members of the Grand Plains Area Wives Association followed behind with a 15-foot hand-sewn banner, cosponsored by Jerry's Auto Body, which read: "GPAWA and Jerry's Cringe To Think What You're Putting Your Family Through."

Organized every year by the Grand Plains City Council and a coalition of area churches, the Gay Shame Parade has been an annual event here since 1977, the year that citizens first became aware of gay people's existence.

"To see a whole community rally together like this around a good cause—it's really an inspiration," said Ellen Lundblom, a mother of four enjoying the festivities with her youngest son, first-time reveler Timmy, 3. "If I were a lesbian, this would have really made me feel awful about myself."

"My favorite part was the balloons," Timmy Lundblom said. "They had all different colors of angry frowny-faces on them."

The event got off to a rousing start with the Grand Plains High School Cougars marching band playing such classics as "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "Onward, Christian Soldiers." The mood grew palpably more sober during the middle portion of the procession, as members of the Grand Plains Baptist Church marched with folded arms in stony, judgmental silence and stared at the spectators lining the streets as if to ask, "Are you gay?"

The spirit of levity returned, however, toward the parade's finish, which featured balloon giveaways, a float contest, and an appearance by 6-year-olds Christopher Weiland and Courtney Wendt, who were crowned "Junior Mister and Miss Heterosexual" on Saturday. The parade concluded with a group reading of Leviticus 20:13.

After the last bit of confetti fell, spectators praised the parade's highlights, including a float, presented by local Little League team the Tigers that depicts a mother, sitting alone with her head down on a kitchen table, crying. The first-place ribbon went to "Sodom and Gomorrah," a miniature version of the two Biblical cities engulfed in flames. The float's designer, McPhee's Department Store window dresser Bruce Carlson, was not able to accept his prize, however, as he was away visiting an aunt in Lawrence, KS for the weekend.

Despite the pageantry, parade organizers stressed that the event has a serious message.

"Everyone loves a parade," PTA chairwoman Agatha Buell said. "But it's about a lot more than the clowns, the decorations, and those Shriner fellows in their tiny cars. It's about making folks feel sickened by the deviant homosexual lifestyle, like God wants us to."

Spectators couldn't help but be delighted by the parade's surprise finale, when, after dutifully leading the marching band for the entire mile-long parade route, local music teacher Colin Atherton was marched past the county line and told never, ever to return.

Concerned about waste.

OK. I've heard it all now.

Please consider this paragraph, lifted from Tuesday's edition of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel:

Beginning today, the Federal Emergency Management Agency will spend $1.1 million to notify 2.2 million people that it is under court order to release their addresses to the South Florida Sun-Sentinel as part of the newspaper's lengthy investigation into massive waste and fraud in disaster aid.

Huh?? What was that? 

I almost spit out my bagel as John read that paragraph to me while we sat in Dunkin' Donuts this morning.

The Sun-Sentinel, which I never read unless it's lying around Dunkin' Donuts and I have nothing else to look at (as was the case today) is concerned about waste at FEMA. OK. Good to be interested in that. FEMA doesn't have the best reputation around.

But because of this rat-ass newspaper's inquiry, FEMA has to waste another $1.1 million on top of what they may have or have not already wasted on God-knows what else.

Is it me, or is this absurd?

There are still people living in trailers after the devastation of Katrina. There are still people, I'm sure, with blue tarps as roofs here in Florida after Wilma and the hurricanes in 2004.  Couldn't $1.1 million be better spent helping them? Or maybe, just perhaps, wouldn't saving the money for the next disaster that comes along be a good idea?

But no, because of the Sun-Sentinel -- which is not fit to read by anyone with a modicum of intelligence --  they will rack up more waste. Waste, just like the paper itself.

A lazy, not-so-hazy Sunday.

Ah, this is the life.

It's mid-afternoon on a gorgeous, sunny Fort Lauderdale afternoon. Cary and I had a delish brunch at Tropics, one of our local gay restaurants. After browsing t-shirts at Were Everywhere, owned by the lovely Kate, we headed back to my place.

Once here, we stripped naked, hit the pool, hit the chaise lounges, hit the table on the lanai. That's where we are right now.  I'm here blogging (what ever did we do without wireless routers), he's reading the local gay rags. We just finished uploading photos to his match.com profile and are listening to Wicked.

Whenever we have days like this, we make all sorts of plans...what will we do when we're in Ogunquit next month? Should we get tickets to Fort Lauderdale Gay Men's Chorus with Barbara Cook in October? What's happening for Thanksgiving.

Later on John will come down and will do a lite BBQ dinner (after the brunch I had, there's no way I can eat much.)

I can't think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon. And for now, I must sign off...the floatie noodle thing in the pool is calling my name.