On Friday, Iris and I will be driving up to Oregon for our niece's wedding to a nice young man we met last November when they joined us, with her parents, for Thanksgiving.
Weddings, as I'm sure you know, bring up lots of feelings for many people. Even our 24-year-old son is twitching a bit this summer as he goes to two weddings of people his own age: this cousin now, and, in August, one of his buddies from Berkeley High.
For me, attending a straight wedding always brings up the whole marriage equality batch of thoughts and feelings. I can't help it. Indeed, just getting to this wedding will involve us temporarily losing our legal married status, as we'll be crossing state lines.
This will be, of course, a June wedding. I myself liked the idea of being a June bride, so the first time I married Iris (1992), we too picked a June date. Stonewall Day, actually, the anniversary of the day in 1969 when a bunch of angry New York queens stood up to the cops and said, "We've had enough." As it happens, Iris and I have also been February brides (2004) and September brides (2008).
Our legal right to marry just in our own state is a matter of hot contention right now, and in the fullness of time, it will likely be taken all the way to the Supreme Court.
Meanwhile, off to a little town outside of Medford, OR, we go. There, no one will question the right of these two young people to marry, and they will stay married when they cross the line into California where they plan to live.
We will go to this wedding, and we will rejoice for them. We will also be holding our own story inside of us.
I suppose all of the other people witnessing along with us will be doing the same thing with their stories. That's just the way that it is.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
The power of the personal; notes from Germany
A trip to a new country leaves one with a great many impressions. The strongest from my recent visit to Germany are connected to personal stories I encountered.
Let me mention first the amazing Holocaust Memorial, more formerly known as the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The Memorial has two parts: an external sculptural placement of 2,711 giant concrete blocks of varying sizes. You can walk through these blocks from any direction, and so they formed a kind of labyrinth. These are 3 photographs I took to give you some idea of the effect: a sense of overwhelming number and individuality of view and experience at the same time.
The information center complimenting the stones adds to this effect with an overview history of the Holocaust but then, importantly, offers a portrait of horrifying deprivation, cruelty and violence in photographs and diaries from fifteen families, each from a different country.
For me, the specificity of this approach made the information sink deeply inside me. In all cases, the photographs from the pre-oppression period showed healthy, glowing faces at various family gatherings. And these served to bring the photographs from later times into exacting and sharp relief. It made quite a difference in impact that every photograph of an individual was identified by name. There were no walls of nameless victims here. Everyone belonged to a family, to a story.
The second experience I want to describe comes from the business part of this trip. For the first two days in Germany, we were in Hannover, where I attended a work-related conference. In addition to the meetings, I was able to have many personal conversations over lunches and dinners with my colleagues from German and Swiss libraries and research institutions. In the process, I began to establish relationships with them, ones that will, of course, grow as we continue to work together.
In these circumstances, we learned a little bit about each other. For instance, I discovered that German children are taught the American Pilgrim story. I was surprised by this, I have to admit. I still find it puzzling. When I, in turn, explained that Thanksgiving is a good holiday for Americans because it is not tied to any particular religious tradition, this was a new idea for Wolfgang and Anja, who explained that Germany is a Christian country. (There you have it.)
For their part, Wolfgang and Anja asked about the wall between the United States and Mexico. They wanted to know how long it is, and whether it stretches all the way from Texas to California. I realized, as they were talking, that Germans understand about walls. They also wanted to know if we had a trade agreement with Mexico, and, if so, why there wasn't free movement between the two countries as there is in Europe between members of the European Union. Now, Germany is not a country without immigration issues of its own, of course, but I didn't bring this up. Instead, I was just interested to hear how the United States is seen from the outside.
I was walking back from an evening reception on the first night of the conference with a colleague from Switzerland, Angela, and another German, Stefan. Angela said something along the lines of "What I want to know is, we just love President Obama. Why don't you?" Stefan agreed that, yes, he had this same question. I made a response I don't think really satisfied either of them, though what can you say to something like that, actually?
As a side note, I observed this pro-Obama feeling elsewhere in Germany: at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, there is a President Kennedy Museum and Shop. In the big picture window right now, there is a huge poster of President Obama.
One last snapshot: every time we opened a map on the streets of Berlin, someone stepped forward and asked if we wanted help. Most notably, on our first afternoon, as we walked down Welserstrasse with a map, a woman stopped to help us. When she found out it was our first visit and first day, she asked us what we were interested in seeing and gave us what ended up being the outline for our full 3 days.
I'll remember her a long time.
Let me mention first the amazing Holocaust Memorial, more formerly known as the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The Memorial has two parts: an external sculptural placement of 2,711 giant concrete blocks of varying sizes. You can walk through these blocks from any direction, and so they formed a kind of labyrinth. These are 3 photographs I took to give you some idea of the effect: a sense of overwhelming number and individuality of view and experience at the same time.
The information center complimenting the stones adds to this effect with an overview history of the Holocaust but then, importantly, offers a portrait of horrifying deprivation, cruelty and violence in photographs and diaries from fifteen families, each from a different country.
The second experience I want to describe comes from the business part of this trip. For the first two days in Germany, we were in Hannover, where I attended a work-related conference. In addition to the meetings, I was able to have many personal conversations over lunches and dinners with my colleagues from German and Swiss libraries and research institutions. In the process, I began to establish relationships with them, ones that will, of course, grow as we continue to work together.
In these circumstances, we learned a little bit about each other. For instance, I discovered that German children are taught the American Pilgrim story. I was surprised by this, I have to admit. I still find it puzzling. When I, in turn, explained that Thanksgiving is a good holiday for Americans because it is not tied to any particular religious tradition, this was a new idea for Wolfgang and Anja, who explained that Germany is a Christian country. (There you have it.)
For their part, Wolfgang and Anja asked about the wall between the United States and Mexico. They wanted to know how long it is, and whether it stretches all the way from Texas to California. I realized, as they were talking, that Germans understand about walls. They also wanted to know if we had a trade agreement with Mexico, and, if so, why there wasn't free movement between the two countries as there is in Europe between members of the European Union. Now, Germany is not a country without immigration issues of its own, of course, but I didn't bring this up. Instead, I was just interested to hear how the United States is seen from the outside.
I was walking back from an evening reception on the first night of the conference with a colleague from Switzerland, Angela, and another German, Stefan. Angela said something along the lines of "What I want to know is, we just love President Obama. Why don't you?" Stefan agreed that, yes, he had this same question. I made a response I don't think really satisfied either of them, though what can you say to something like that, actually?
As a side note, I observed this pro-Obama feeling elsewhere in Germany: at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, there is a President Kennedy Museum and Shop. In the big picture window right now, there is a huge poster of President Obama.
One last snapshot: every time we opened a map on the streets of Berlin, someone stepped forward and asked if we wanted help. Most notably, on our first afternoon, as we walked down Welserstrasse with a map, a woman stopped to help us. When she found out it was our first visit and first day, she asked us what we were interested in seeing and gave us what ended up being the outline for our full 3 days.
I'll remember her a long time.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Happy Gay Pride Month!
There's a real thrill for me when I come up out of any downtown San Francisco BART station in June. All along Market Street, the big rainbow flags are flying, and it is a site to see.
For many years, my family marched up Market Street on the last Sunday in June, especially when our son was a little boy. We marched with the LGBT Parenting contingent, and it was an absolute balm to get all those cheers! When Nathan was little, the kids' groups were lined up right after the groups for people with HIV-AIDS, and in the late eighties and early nineties, those groups were pretty grim looking. By the time the children came along, I suspect that the crowds were really looking for a sign that life was going to carry on.
At the time, I really needed the boost too. I often felt like I was holding it together all year long as a lesbian mom, more or less in conflict with my family of origin, and so for this one day in June to have tens of thousands of people cheering for me was truly wonderful.
The rainbow flags remind me of all of this.
I saw them this week as when I went into San Francisco to get euros for our trip to Germany. We're leaving on Saturday the 5th and returning late on Saturday the 11th, so there will be an interruption in my posting next week.
It's a business trip to Hanover with a pleasure trip to Berlin added onto the end. Amazingly, when we get to Berlin, we will land smack dab into the middle of Europe's biggest Gay Pride Week!
So, we'll celebrate in a whole new way this year. I've already learned something new, which is that lesbian in German is lesbisch. How about that!
For many years, my family marched up Market Street on the last Sunday in June, especially when our son was a little boy. We marched with the LGBT Parenting contingent, and it was an absolute balm to get all those cheers! When Nathan was little, the kids' groups were lined up right after the groups for people with HIV-AIDS, and in the late eighties and early nineties, those groups were pretty grim looking. By the time the children came along, I suspect that the crowds were really looking for a sign that life was going to carry on.
At the time, I really needed the boost too. I often felt like I was holding it together all year long as a lesbian mom, more or less in conflict with my family of origin, and so for this one day in June to have tens of thousands of people cheering for me was truly wonderful.
The rainbow flags remind me of all of this.
I saw them this week as when I went into San Francisco to get euros for our trip to Germany. We're leaving on Saturday the 5th and returning late on Saturday the 11th, so there will be an interruption in my posting next week.
It's a business trip to Hanover with a pleasure trip to Berlin added onto the end. Amazingly, when we get to Berlin, we will land smack dab into the middle of Europe's biggest Gay Pride Week!
So, we'll celebrate in a whole new way this year. I've already learned something new, which is that lesbian in German is lesbisch. How about that!
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Reunions
I'm going to make use of my poetic license (acquired along with my first Master's Degree--in Poetry, SF State, 1983) and give you a collection of thoughts. See what the combination evokes for you.
A phone call
It came a week and a half ago. We have caller ID, so I could read his name on the display. It seemed improbable to me that a cousin I barely knew and hadn't spoken to in 40 years would be calling out of the blue, but who else could it be? I decided to pick up.
A deep voice asked if I was me. And, if I was who I used to be. I asked, "Are you my cousin?" He agreed that he was. We proceeded to talk for the next 10 minutes about ourselves. He had called my brother earlier that day, and that's how he'd gotten my married name and phone number. He said it had been a long time since he had spoken to us, and he didn't want it to go on any longer.
The funny thing is that, when we were kids, we barely knew each other. I have probably seen him less than five times in my life. His mother was my dad's sister, and my dad didn't try to see his family often. It's hard to make any sense of those old complex feelings now, but it's also not easy to feel strong pulls of family bond at this late date. In their place, I feel a simple openness.
A tent at Maker Faire
I noticed, while walking past, an open-air tent where leaders were teaching eager people how to solder. Adults, kids, men, women, boys, girls, all bent themselves over small objects of metal they were joining together with a metal alloy. This was a very popular activity. There were only a few empty seats.
Joans
On Monday, I will be getting together with another Joan, a Joan from my past. When I was in college (before I got my poetic license), I had a roommate named Joan. We Joans had a third roommate, a woman named Shari. Shari now lives 2 blocks down the street from me, here in Berkeley.
The other Joan had been "lost" to us, living all this time, it seems, in Vancouver, Washington. Shari and I just "found" her--or, rather, she found us--thanks to Facebook.
Shari is making a big brunch for us, offering for my opinion, this list of tasty options:
However, in the last few days, as we've been getting closer and Shari has made attempts to nail down dates and times, it's become clear that our long lost Joan has decided to bring her husband and her sister to this brunch, which suggests she has a very different idea about this brunch get-together than I had had. Ah well, time, as they say, has gone by.
Concluding couplet
I can't resist leaving you with this:
We like putting things together
Do we like putting things together?
A phone call
It came a week and a half ago. We have caller ID, so I could read his name on the display. It seemed improbable to me that a cousin I barely knew and hadn't spoken to in 40 years would be calling out of the blue, but who else could it be? I decided to pick up.
A deep voice asked if I was me. And, if I was who I used to be. I asked, "Are you my cousin?" He agreed that he was. We proceeded to talk for the next 10 minutes about ourselves. He had called my brother earlier that day, and that's how he'd gotten my married name and phone number. He said it had been a long time since he had spoken to us, and he didn't want it to go on any longer.
The funny thing is that, when we were kids, we barely knew each other. I have probably seen him less than five times in my life. His mother was my dad's sister, and my dad didn't try to see his family often. It's hard to make any sense of those old complex feelings now, but it's also not easy to feel strong pulls of family bond at this late date. In their place, I feel a simple openness.
A tent at Maker Faire
I noticed, while walking past, an open-air tent where leaders were teaching eager people how to solder. Adults, kids, men, women, boys, girls, all bent themselves over small objects of metal they were joining together with a metal alloy. This was a very popular activity. There were only a few empty seats.
Joans
On Monday, I will be getting together with another Joan, a Joan from my past. When I was in college (before I got my poetic license), I had a roommate named Joan. We Joans had a third roommate, a woman named Shari. Shari now lives 2 blocks down the street from me, here in Berkeley.
The other Joan had been "lost" to us, living all this time, it seems, in Vancouver, Washington. Shari and I just "found" her--or, rather, she found us--thanks to Facebook.
Shari is making a big brunch for us, offering for my opinion, this list of tasty options:
- Fruit Salad
- Lox, bagels, cream cheese, cucumber
- Blintzes
- White Fish Salad (maybe)
- Frittata
- OJ
- Coffee/Tea/Milk
However, in the last few days, as we've been getting closer and Shari has made attempts to nail down dates and times, it's become clear that our long lost Joan has decided to bring her husband and her sister to this brunch, which suggests she has a very different idea about this brunch get-together than I had had. Ah well, time, as they say, has gone by.
Concluding couplet
I can't resist leaving you with this:
We like putting things together
Do we like putting things together?
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Our visit to the Maker Faire
This weekend we went to the Maker Faire. The event is 1 part county fair, 2 parts inventors' workshop. It is sponsored by Make Magazine. A clue to understanding the mission of Make Magazine ("technology on your time") is one of the projects on its current home page: "Hack a hoodie to turn off TVs with the tug of a zipper."
Regular readers of this blog will know that I am a big fan and adherent of the DIY approach. I've written about making catnip cigars, holiday wreaths, gift bags, cheese, and rag placemats. But, I cannot hold a candle--or rather--a miniature LED flashlight to the technological wonders that abound at the Maker Faire.
For example, last year Iris and I saw a dress woven from ordinary fibers blended with electronic fibers. The woman working on the design aimed to create a garment that would enable a visually impaired person to detect information about the immediate environment, such as proximity to objects. This year, her comrade in threads was showing a wired shirt that lights up in reaction to the wearer's body temperature and activity. It's made for dancing, in other words.
Our companions for this year's visit were our 12-year-old friends Ben, Hannah, and Jessie. The visit was our birthday present to them...the kind of gift that is at least as much fun for the givers as we hope it was for the receivers.
I'm going to give you a small tour of the Faire, so if you are looking at this post via the email feed and you don't get the images, you may want to follow the link to the web version to see what you're missing.
This is the "Raygun Gothic Rocket" on the Midway, visible from either entrance when you first arrive at the fair. Quite a climbing structure, don't you think?
This is a floor shot in the "Maker Shed," a warehouse filled with kits, books, demos, and, well, inspiration. Oh, and also, crowds.
Introducing Shovel Man, a DIY musician. He is appearing on the Human-Powered Stage, where the power for the amps is provided by members of the crowd pedaling bicycles. Ben took a turn.
A captivating metal and fire sculpture in the Fire Arts area. The kids were able to use a controller to cause "synapses" to fire.
One of my favorites: The Egg-Writer and the computer program running it. It's multi-purpose: it also writes on ping pong balls, light bulbs, why, think of all the things it might be good for!
What Faire would be without Robot Wars? At this point in the action, the crowd roared, "Death to the Barbie Car!"
The kids made soap, drove virtual cars, played a version of electronic pong, ate both good and bad food, and got tired enough that they hit the sack several hours earlier than the night before. In short, it was a Faire to remember.
Regular readers of this blog will know that I am a big fan and adherent of the DIY approach. I've written about making catnip cigars, holiday wreaths, gift bags, cheese, and rag placemats. But, I cannot hold a candle--or rather--a miniature LED flashlight to the technological wonders that abound at the Maker Faire.
For example, last year Iris and I saw a dress woven from ordinary fibers blended with electronic fibers. The woman working on the design aimed to create a garment that would enable a visually impaired person to detect information about the immediate environment, such as proximity to objects. This year, her comrade in threads was showing a wired shirt that lights up in reaction to the wearer's body temperature and activity. It's made for dancing, in other words.
Our companions for this year's visit were our 12-year-old friends Ben, Hannah, and Jessie. The visit was our birthday present to them...the kind of gift that is at least as much fun for the givers as we hope it was for the receivers.
I'm going to give you a small tour of the Faire, so if you are looking at this post via the email feed and you don't get the images, you may want to follow the link to the web version to see what you're missing.
This is the "Raygun Gothic Rocket" on the Midway, visible from either entrance when you first arrive at the fair. Quite a climbing structure, don't you think?
This is a floor shot in the "Maker Shed," a warehouse filled with kits, books, demos, and, well, inspiration. Oh, and also, crowds.Introducing Shovel Man, a DIY musician. He is appearing on the Human-Powered Stage, where the power for the amps is provided by members of the crowd pedaling bicycles. Ben took a turn.
The kids made soap, drove virtual cars, played a version of electronic pong, ate both good and bad food, and got tired enough that they hit the sack several hours earlier than the night before. In short, it was a Faire to remember.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Fast means slow
As I write this week's post, I am fasting. And I'd like to say for the record that this practice really needs a makeover. The new name: Slowing.
My argument is based on my experience that time seems to have slowed down considerably since I did not have breakfast this morning.
It's a long slog until I go to bed tonight. I know it's just one day, goddammit, but it's one loooooong day!
While I am on this topic, I recently read Eat Your Dreams, in the monthly magazine The Sun. The author, a man named Sparrow, writes about going to sleep hungry and dreaming (repeatedly) about food and eating. He makes this into a new form of dieting, by dream-eating and waking up fulfilled. Sparrow fasts on a weekly basis, and also twice a month, according to the lunar calendar. He says, "When I fast, I am more likely to eat in my subsequent dream." No kidding.
Now, The Sun is, overall, a particularly worthy publication, ad free, and on point in its mission to "evoke the the splendor and heartache of being human." We can only hope that this particular message stays off the radar of developing girls and boys, vulnerable as they are to the siren call of anorexia.
Just so you know, I am not making a regular habit of this fasting/slowing business. I only do it when my doctor makes me! Here's why I'm doing it today.
It's a long slog until I go to bed tonight. I know it's just one day, goddammit, but it's one loooooong day!
While I am on this topic, I recently read Eat Your Dreams, in the monthly magazine The Sun. The author, a man named Sparrow, writes about going to sleep hungry and dreaming (repeatedly) about food and eating. He makes this into a new form of dieting, by dream-eating and waking up fulfilled. Sparrow fasts on a weekly basis, and also twice a month, according to the lunar calendar. He says, "When I fast, I am more likely to eat in my subsequent dream." No kidding.
Now, The Sun is, overall, a particularly worthy publication, ad free, and on point in its mission to "evoke the the splendor and heartache of being human." We can only hope that this particular message stays off the radar of developing girls and boys, vulnerable as they are to the siren call of anorexia.
Just so you know, I am not making a regular habit of this fasting/slowing business. I only do it when my doctor makes me! Here's why I'm doing it today.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Initials here please
Remember when BP was British Petroleum? The name change occured in 2000, and we were encouraged to think of the acronym as standing for "better people, better products, beyond petroleum."
It's just that pesky petroleum problems kept popping up. BP can't seem to get beyond petroleum!
The NY Times reported that BP CEO Tony Hayward asked his work buddies, "What the hell did we do to deserve this?" Stock prices have fallen by some 8%, which is a real bummer for Mr. Hayward. He has come up with a great strategy, though. He is blaming the company that owns and operates the oil rig, Transocean. BP is just a renter, it turns out. So, like typical renters who--oops!--broke the toilet or tried to flush a few too many foreign objects down the drain, BP is now blaming the landlord for the fact that there is one hell of a plumbing mess working its way toward Louisiana and Mississippi.
Let me just say that I do understand Mr. Hayward and BP's strategy. Who hasn't tried to deflect attention from one's darker side by a slight of hand, a little redirection of attention? So, if a simple name change and a cute new logo with a pretty flower could help bring a brighter day to the minds of investors and potential investors, then why not try it?
Accordingly, in an effort to erase any memories you may have of my past transgressions, you may all start referring to me simply as JS, which might bring to mind...
jello savvy, jolly sweetheart, joyful searching... you get the picture!
It's just that pesky petroleum problems kept popping up. BP can't seem to get beyond petroleum!
- 2005...Texas Refinery Explosion, 15 deaths, over 170 injuries.
- 2006 to 2009...Prudhoe Bay toxic spills and leaks, several over this period due primarily to poor maintenance of pipes (often as a result of cost-cutting measures).
- 2010: Deepwater Horizon drilling rig explosion and oil spill, 11 people missing and presumed dead.
The NY Times reported that BP CEO Tony Hayward asked his work buddies, "What the hell did we do to deserve this?" Stock prices have fallen by some 8%, which is a real bummer for Mr. Hayward. He has come up with a great strategy, though. He is blaming the company that owns and operates the oil rig, Transocean. BP is just a renter, it turns out. So, like typical renters who--oops!--broke the toilet or tried to flush a few too many foreign objects down the drain, BP is now blaming the landlord for the fact that there is one hell of a plumbing mess working its way toward Louisiana and Mississippi.
Let me just say that I do understand Mr. Hayward and BP's strategy. Who hasn't tried to deflect attention from one's darker side by a slight of hand, a little redirection of attention? So, if a simple name change and a cute new logo with a pretty flower could help bring a brighter day to the minds of investors and potential investors, then why not try it?
Accordingly, in an effort to erase any memories you may have of my past transgressions, you may all start referring to me simply as JS, which might bring to mind...
jello savvy, jolly sweetheart, joyful searching... you get the picture!
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