This is not a political blog and I’ve tried to stick to writing, not my candidate of choice (however should he lose I’ll be posting this blog from Mexico or Canada next week.)  But I do think we writers need to stand up for moral issues we believe in, and right now in California we have a proposition on the ballot that could prevent many of my friends from marrying, or have their marriages dissolved. This makes no sense to me. In the past I’ve written and published two essays on the subject of gay marriage that appeared in the Santa Monica Mirror. Both were published a number of years ago (Update: Caroline and Susa now also have a little girl, and Barry and Van-Martin got married this summer. Deb and Meg were married but then, like many of us, gay and straight, got divorced.)

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THE LANGUAGE OF FAMILY     September 2004

A recent New Yorker cartoon features a wife holding suitcases and about to head out the door, saying to her husband, "There’s nothing wrong with our marriage, but the spectre of gay marriage has hopelessly eroded the institution."

For the past year, during all the political rhetoric about the tradition and sanctity of the institution of marriage, I’ve been wondering  how my gay friends getting married could erode my straight marriage. 

Van-Martin and Barry, together for eleven years now, planned a late April wedding in San Francisco had to cancel when the court wouldn’t allow more same sex marriages to take place.  I went to their Easter party last April and there didn’t seem to be anything subversive about the event. Actually it was pretty traditional – decorated eggs hidden in their garden, a giant blow-up bunny for everybody to pose in front of for pictures, and seventeen Easter baskets for all the kids

Other friends were luckier in San Francisco .  Caroline and Susa were married the first week in February. Caroline grew up next door and every Mother’s Day she sends me a card.  The wedding pictures of  Caroline and Susa holding their eight month old son between them shine with happiness; after all these years Caroline was finally granted public acceptance of her life and love.

My friend Deb is hoping to someday marry her partner Meg. They just sold their house and are moving into a larger one to make more room for Meg’s two daughters. Seven years ago Deb went through breast cancer alone, before she met Meg.  Thinking of Deb no longer living alone but connected to someone she loves and with a family of her own gives me deep joy, not thoughts of protecting the sanctity of my "traditional" marriage

In fact, when my husband proposed eight years ago I didn’t think I wanted to get married again. I loved him and wanted to be with him, but I just didn’t see the point of making it official.  My independence was hard won. I worked, I could support myself,  I didn’t need the protection nor the sanctity of marriage.

My decision to finally marry him began with language; this man I loved was referred to by my daughters as Mom’s boyfriend.  I was hoping to have grandchildren in the future – he’d be their grandmother’s boyfriend, and to his grandkids I’d be Grandpa’s girlfriend.  It sounded just a little temporary to me, slightly sleazy.  I love the language of family – grandparents, parents, children, cousins – and I had to admit I love the words of commitment that my church uses in the marriage ceremony.  Finally I realized I wanted my life to be clear to my daughters and their children.  I didn’t care so much about what was traditional, but I did want permanence. I wanted ritual, I wanted to vow that I’d be with this man I loved for the rest of my life and have our families and friends witness that vow. 

I’ve recognized since then all the benefits married couples have,  benefits I took for granted in my first marriage. Our lives are entwined not only in our everyday life, but also on paper. Every time I fill out an application, medical history, or a survey, I write his name in the space for spouse. We are each others next of kin. Our children are stepbrothers and stepsisters to one another.  And the next generation – now five grandchildren – are cousins.  Since both my husband and I had long marriages that ended in divorce, I don’t know if our new marriage is considered traditional by those who take it upon themselves to define these things, but I do know that we’re a family who gathers often and we’re glued together with love and respect.

The need for the language of family resonates with my friend Deb. She was trying to explain her relationship with Meg to a Spanish speaking painter who was working on their new house. Finally light broke through. "Ah!" he said, "Meg is your sister!"

If Meg becomes Deb’s spouse, if Barry and Van-Martin finally get married, how on earth can this threaten or diminish anyone’s straight marriage?  If the courts annul Caroline and Susa’s marriage, what will be gained?  What message will that send to their son?

Rather than erode the institution of marriage and family, the fight for gay marriage is causing me to dwell on the preciousness of my own, the privileges that it offers, and the question of why we all, straight and gay alike, can’t have this.

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THE WEDDING      July 2001

During the wedding I whispered to my daughter, "Caroline sure has better taste in women than she had in men." 

My daughter whispered back,  "She finally just met the person she could really love." 

The woman Caroline found to love is beautiful, a doctor who works with HIV and AIDS patients,  the kind of person you think of as a pure soul; when she listens to you her attention is one hundred percent, not muddied by ego or trying to please.  A woman who, far more dignified and reserved than our friend Caroline, nevertheless burst into tears when her father, her very conservative, older father, raised his glass and toasted her at the reception with these words: "You have always made good choices, but this one may be the best of all."

We’ve known Caroline since she was three years old and lived next door to us. I remember driving her to kindergarten with my daughters, the Snoopy costume she wore every Halloween. I remember hearing her sister practice the flute through the open windows of their house, her mother’s Christmas cookies.  I remember Caroline as a teenager, her boyfriends, the drama of her adolescence, and then she moved on to college, grew up to do important work in the world,  and now finally she had found the right person to love and share her life with.  So this day of the wedding was rich with thirty years of memories.

It was not a wedding in the traditional sense of course, nor even a legal commitment – but in the true sense of the verb to wed: "to bind by close and lasting ties, to become united" this was Caroline’s wedding.  Here was a couple who wanted their commitment to one another witnessed by the people they love. The close and lasting ties of their partnership strengthened by the unconditional love and presence of their families and closest friends.

Late afternoon sun filtered through the eucalyptus trees as the minister read the vows they had written to one another. Caroline’s  sister and brother-in-law played a flute and hand drum rendition of the Beatles "In My Life".   A friend recited a poem – May the heron carry news of you to the heavens,/And the salmon bring the sea’s blue grace…

The reception afterward  was filled with toasts that either made you laugh or put a serious lump in your throat. One friend sang a few Russian folk songs as a toast. Another told the tale of introducing them to one another.  And then the couple themselves danced – a full out rehearsed ballroom dance routine complete with dips and whirls to Ella Fitzgerald’s "Too Darn Hot".

I’ve been to weddings where tempers were stretched thin, where the bride, groom and the mother of the bride appeared to be on the verge of  a collective collapse. Weddings with three hundred guests,  four foot ice sculptures and ceremonies that resembled small coronations. But the best of weddings are about the heart, not the show.  They cause us to think and reflect on our own relationships, our marriages or partnerships, our connections to our own families.  You take a moment to realize what is truly important in this life: family and love, sacred ritual and celebration. And to renew in your heart your own vows, to remember what you have promised your partner or spouse. To realize there is nothing on earth more important than unconditional love. Love that nourishes and connects and sustains people. Love and partnership that are not defined by someone else’s rules.

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