Coming Out—Reflections

October 11 is National Coming Out Day, and I would officially "come out," except that I think everyone here already knows. I don't hide the fact that I'm in a committed, loving, caring, till-death-do-us-part kind of relationship. I shouldn't have to. Love comes from God, and it is quite possibly the most important part of being human. Love shouldn't have to be hidden. Love, caring, and commitment are rarely, if ever, wrong.

Yet there have always been folks who try to put limits on who can love whom. For a long, long time in our country (though not necessarily in other countries) there was a prohibition against interracial relationships.

People pointed to Bible passages for validation of their prejudice and intolerance (just as they used the Bible to support black slavery). And they argued that since they were in the majority, they should get their way here in America.

Thankfully, we have built-in checks and balances in our government, and the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the constitutional right of a minority of U.S. citizens to marry the person of their own choosing. (Today, these would be termed "activist judges" because they stood up for the rights of the little guy against mob rule.)

The Catholic Church, interestingly enough, supported legalization of interracial marriages, since in their opinion, marriages should be up to the individuals concerned, and their God, and not be limited by civil government. It is a religious freedom issue. (See here for more on this topic.)

But until the "activist" ruling of Loving v. Virginia—in 1967—many states had laws banning "miscegenation" and interracial marriage.

I suppose that a majority of "majority" Americans don't think about this issue very much, since they don't see how it affects them personally, but as a lesbian, I think about it daily. I honestly do. I wonder how it can be that people fail to recognize that my love, my commitment, my willingness to be there for my partner, is no less important than anyone else's. Why can't we get on each other's life insurance? Why can't we get legal recognition for our marriage? We've been together since 1993.

It always comes down to semantics, it seems. I hear people use the term "traditional marriage," and I wonder how far they're willing to go back to define "traditional"—in biblical times, traditional marriage was basically a contract where a man purchases a woman, a vessel for his seed, and ensures a legal bloodline.

And I hear people say, "marriage is for a man and a woman," and I wonder what kind of marriage they're talking about. The marriage they had in their church, or the one they got down at the courthouse? Marriage has two components: the spiritual and the legal.

What a lot of people don't seem to realize is that we gay folks can already get married in our churches, by our own ministers, by progressive denominations, in our hearts, in our communities, before our friends and family, before our God.

Additionally, churches in our country are free to discriminate however they want—their rites and sacraments can be bestowed or limited however each denomination sees fit. The Catholics, I hear, have very strict rules about who they will and won't marry. I also understand there are some churches out there that will join two dogs in holy matrimony, kinda nutty, but there you go. Freedom of religion.

It's the trip to the courthouse—that piece of paper—the marriage certificate—that we want. We don't want a ridiculous, second-class, "separate-but-equal" category. If "civil union" or "domestic partnership" is good enough for me, then it will be good enough for straight folks too. If the terminology is such a problem, then I propose that all couples, straight and gay, get "married" or "wedded" in our houses of worship (optional, of course), and "civil unioned" in the courthouse—the document that matters for taxes, insurance, and other legal matters. What do you think?

I'm Sorry

There are times I can hardly stand myself because I'm not working every single day on behalf of my own civil rights. Yes, I'm one of those gay folks who considered suicide as an adolescent, and I have several friends who actually tried it, before the age of twenty. It saddens and angers me that gay kids today are still far more likely than straights to kill themselves.

I apologize for posting on a "political" subject, because I know you look at this blog for fun things—food and hiking, pictures of the critters in our yard, news about the renovations to Grandma's old house. But you have to understand, it's all linked together. And every once in a while, I have to spout off and communicate about things that really matter to me.

An Abomination

We all create a personalized "history" about our ancestors, based on what we know of them and what has seemed somehow significant. And because part of the purpose of this blog is to talk about what it's like to buy and live in Grandma's house, I want to share part of my own ancestor-story with you. Maybe it will help you understand some of what I've said.

Yes, there have always been folks to put limits on who can love whom, and this figures into the story of my great-grandparents Albert and Wilhelmina Thomas. They were my dad's maternal grandparents, immigrants from Germany. Albert created this house we live in; made it for my newlywed grandparents in 1930.

In my heart I can feel my kinship with Albert and Wilhelmina, although they were long gone by the time I appeared on this earth, because they, too, had been told their love was an abomination. Their precious love, their dear hearts, their promise to care for each other—an abomination. Their love, like mine, had disgusted people, had been belittled, laughed at, cursed. The problem was that theirs was a mixed marriage: He was a Protestant, she a Catholic. And it didn't help that he was of more humble means than her family.

I try to imagine what their relationship was like. From what I've heard of their personalities, I think that Albert won her over with a warm, good nature, and relaxed, fun-loving personality. She was more rigorous, straight-laced. I think she tried not to laugh at his jokes, but he knew her heart, and he always knew how to make her smile. That's what I think.

So they got married over there in Germany, and people had a fit. Her family, especially, detested the union. They said it would never work. They said that God hated what they had done.

And then their first little baby died, and of course that was a sign of God's displeasure—right? (We know that stillbirths and infant mortality were incredibly common back then, but you just can't argue with folks who are certain that they speak for God.)

They had a second baby, my Great Aunt Polly, who was fine, but Albert and Wilhelmina decided they'd had enough of the Old World and set out for the New.

Wilhelmina's family did not show up at the train station to see them off. A total snub. How hurtful! Can you imagine how much it must have hurt? Would she ever see them again? (Hint: this kind of crap happens to gay people all the time.)

They studied American history and civics on the boat, because they wanted to become U.S. citizens as quickly as possible. (And people wonder why gay folks all want to flock to places like San Francisco or Provincetown. Compared to here in the ironically named "Heartland," these live-and-let-live places provide refuge, rights, and a dignified existence for people whose only "sin" is to fall in love with the "wrong" person.)

I think about Albert and Wilhelmina a lot. I wonder if Wilhelmina didn't internalize some of the hatred that had been turned against her. I wonder how often they regretted leaving their homeland. I wonder, sometimes, why I don't pick up like they did, and move to someplace better, where we can have more civil rights, where we can fit in.

I could go on and on with this topic, but I leave you with a simple request that you speak up when you hear people spouting bigotry (of whatever type), that you practice tolerance, and that you cultivate respect for the mystery of human attraction and celebrate the gift of love.

Coolness Lost

This isn't a very happy post, you all. Two things have happened here that have made life less cool.

1. Goodbye to Felini

First is that Felini, one of our favorite restaurants in Columbia, has shut its doors. I wrote about this restaurant earlier; you can see that earlier post for more about it.




I found it an uncommon type of restaurant, for the Midwest. The food was creative and delicious without being "trendy." The presentations were elegant without being ostentatious.




The menu was varied enough so that there was something for everyone in the party, and there were some items you can't get anywhere else (Kosovar-Albanian specialties such as Tava Sautee, Qoftethes, and their unique style of kebobs; their Greek and Italian dishes included an unusual and addictive tuna calzone, Domate Supa, and Galaktobureko).

The ambience was pleasant, relaxing, "nice," without being hoity-toity. The service was attentive, gracious, and friendly without being in-your-face. The prices were very reasonable.




Felini opened my eyes and palate to a new cuisine, and it renewed my memories of the great dinners we would have at my Grandma Schroeder's house--first-class food made with love, the good dishes, good wine, and yet so comfortable, with plenty of room for ebullient conversation, even singing. I found Felini a tremendous inspiration for my own cooking and entertaining, and I already miss it.

(Wonder how I can get the recipe for their tuna calzone? Man, that was great!)





2. The Tour of Missouri

Well, this is just a damn shame: Governor Nixon and the Missouri Tourism Commission have nixed the funding for what would have been the fourth annual Tour of Missouri bicycle stage race (which is a lot like the Tour de France). Each summer, from 2007 to 2009, the world's top cyclists--professional athletes on a level with Lance Armstrong--have come with their international teams to compete in a progressive race that took place all across our state.




They rode in Kansas City and St. Louis; they rode in Gallatin and Taos. The races were broadcast on the Web, and cycling enthusiasts worldwide learned about Missouri, saw our beautiful landscapes, our rolling hills . . . and many came as tourists to follow their teams for the whole week.

There are a large number of stage races worldwide, but the Tour of Missouri quickly rose to become one of the most significant apart from the Tour de France. It is ranked as one of the top 5 races outside of Europe. The biggest pro teams were attending. People were really paying attention to this race.




Both public and private money sponsored the Tour of Missouri; this year, the Tour was asking for $1,000,000 from the state. The total event budget was $3.5 million, and much of the corporate and city funding has been tied to the assurance of support from the state.

The part I can't understand is how the great benefits of the Tour of Missouri can be so summarily discounted: For the state, there's an estimated average 20 to 1 Return on Investment for this event. Tax revenues are estimated at $3.8 million. Numerous world-famous Tour de France winners, Olympic medalists, and other top cyclists appeared on Tour of Missouri podiums. Our event was broadcast in 173 countries, and Versus, Fox Sports Midwest, and Fox Sports Kansas City provided daily telecasts to American viewers.






Visitors from 42 states and 15 countries came to Missouri, dined, and slept in motels here. There were 790 million circulated impressions of the event with Missouri by-lines. This was the most international sporting event Missouri has hosted since the 1904 Olympics.




At the starts and finishes, festivals provided promotional platforms for more than 20 sponsors, plus Health and Wellness Expositions; these festivals were attended by an estimated 300,000 people. Included were things like safety clinics and bike-helmet giveaways for kids, information on ways to improve your diet and get more exercise, and much more. An accompanying educational curriculum reached 250,000 students in the state.




Yes, I know that things like "exposing people to healthy ideas" and "getting kids enthused about bicycling" are rather intangible--how can you put a dollar value on an incentive that may or may not bear immediate fruit? But people need to be reminded of health and fitness constantly, and this is one, fun way to do that. Not every kid is going to be "reached" by baseball, football, or other sports (I certainly was not)--but I can understand cycling. You don't need a team to be a cyclist, and cycling is one sport that definitely is very open to women, and to people of all ages, too.




It's also rather intangible to talk about how people all across the world saw the St. Louis Arch, or the Pony Express in St. Joe. How do you quantify the value of a picture postcard? Where is the immediate payoff? . . . As with the health and wellness benefit, it is collective. It might take the thirtieth such "postcard" to inspire someone to come visit our state and spend money here. So to my thinking, the Tour gave us a lot of bang for our buck--cycling fans tuned in every day for a week, so that's seven doses of "Missouri postcard" right there!

But set aside the intangibles: In 2009, the total economic impact by spectators during the seven-day event was $38.1 million. The previous year, that was $29.8 million in 2008, and in 2007, it was $26.2 million. This baby was growing!

Now, when you stop to think that the State was asked to provide ONE million dollars, in order to bring probably $40 million into our state, and it didn't see this as a wise way of spending our tax dollars--well, it's no wonder we're in a recession, no wonder stuff is screwed up, with this kind of thinking.

And yes, I'm a big ol' Democrat, but I'm simply pissed off at Governor Nixon about this. I can't help but think this is some kind of asinine political foolishness on his part, since Lt. Gov. Pete Kinder, who is likely to challenge him in the next gubernatorial election, has been the top politician supporting the Tour of Missouri. Indeed, this race is one of Kinder's proudest projects. And he deserves to be proud.




Governor Nixon has really missed his mark on this decision. The Tour of Missouri is too good to be a political football. In many ways, Nixon's and Kinder's stances on the Tour of Missouri seem to swap the usual positions of Democrat and Republican. Stereotypically (if I can make sweeping generalizations), Democrats are willing to spend public money on the "intangibles" concerning community spirit (including small towns) and promotion of public health and wellness; the Republicans seem most likely to refuse public dollars for, well, anything public-welfare-related. Republicans usually refuse to allow public money in any projects constructive for the common man, insisting that private sources fund it all. But here the roles seem reversed, with Kinder backing this popular, public-private cosponsored, do-good, feel-good, everyone-wins project.

It takes more than a shrewd politician to know when to support his opponent's good works--it takes someone who really cares about the state. And so I have doubts about Governor Nixon. This really smells like partisanship. I haven't ever voted for a Republican, but I have to admit: Nixon's stand on the Tour of Missouri is making me reconsider.

Will the Tour of Missouri return in 2011? If a last-minute change on the part of the Tourism Commission and Nixon doesn't save it for 2010, then probably not. So goodbye, Tour of Missouri, you were really inspiring, and you made me proud of every corner of our state, from the smallest rural towns to our largest cities.




And so Missouri has had, and lost, another really cool thing, and my friends from out of state will have another reason to say, "How can you live there? What a backwards state! That place must really suck." And yeah, sometimes it really does.