A Family Disease

My precious daughter has a crippling illness that could very well kill her.  It is progressive, and creates chemical changes in the brain and affects behavior.  It has destroyed her ability to parent her children, or have healthy relationships with the people who love her the most.  It has alienated her from loved ones, landed her in jail repeatedly, and pretty much destroyed her decision-making process.  It is destroying her from the inside out, and all we can do is watch this train wreck helplessly.

This disease is called addiction.  It kills countless people each year, yet it's one of the few diseases that carries a personal stigma against the sufferer.  People feel comfortable calling people with addiction horrible names, such as tweaker, doper, loser, piece of shit, and many other hurtful things.  I have even been attacked, as her mother, as it must have somehow been my fault that my daughter has this "flaw."

I'm guessing that nearly every parent of an addict has spent dark hours questioning where it all went wrong, examining every parenting mistake, every slip from perfection that may have caused hell on earth for their child.  It's confusing to vacillate between grief, hope, anger, fear, shock, guilt, worry, resignation, and many other emotions toward that person, often within the same day.  It's hard to look back through old photos and try to pinpoint something that maybe I missed, some clue I should have seen.  It's a very efficient way to slowly go crazy, yet I still catch myself doing it.

I heard a quote on a page called, "I Hate Heroin" on Facebook that said, "You didn't cause it, you can't cure it, and you can't control it."  This has helped some but there's still that "mom guilt," the worst guilt of all.  Defying all logic, a part of me continues to question what I did wrong.

Like any other disease, no loved one wants to "give up" on the sufferer.  We all love our family members, especially our children, and want to help them.  It's a very hard road to find that fine line between helping and enabling; I'm still looking.  What if the one time I turn my back was the one time she would have been ready to get help?  What if I shut down contact and something horrible happens to her?  Addiction doesn't just affect the person who has it; it's an equal opportunity destroyer.  It affects entire families, workplaces, communities.  Everyone who cares about the person is destroyed on some level, and it has changed me irrevocably. 

It's hard when I'm on Facebook, and see memes and photos and jokes poking fun at people with addictions.  I just can't see any humor in kicking people when they are down.  Everyone of them makes me think of my daughter.  The same people who think it's hilarious to put up pictures of "tweakers" wouldn't even think of posting jokes and pictures ridiculing those with other illnesses, such as heart disease or cancer.  I know her children will grow up hearing her called horrible names and ridiculed by society.  It's hard to know how to prepare them for this.  I can no longer see those "funny" pictures without wondering who that person was before their life was destroyed, and if someone out there is hurt that their loved one's illness is being exploited for cheap laughs, or if anyone cares about them at all.

I feel the same way about the "People of Wal-Mart" pictures and other pictures who make fun of strangers in a mean way.  How much intelligence and class does it take to kick someone when they're down?  I don't know that person's story, whether it involves poverty or mental illness, or why they are dressed the way they are, but it's none of my business.  How is this any different from the playground bullies who gather around to taunt others for their clothing and appearance?  Can't we adults do better than that?

I KNOW who my daughter was, and is.  She's a younger sister to two loving and protective brothers, and a kid sister to all of their friends.  As a child, she was one of the most sweet and loving children I have ever met, and she still is one of the sweetest people I know.  She loved everyone, and everyone loved her back.  She was bubbly and funny and kind.  She liked to sing, and had an adventurous tomboy spirit.  She once had a dream of joining the coast guard and doing water rescues and saving lives.  She still has a goofy and hilarious sense of humor, plays guitar, and loves to do outdoorsy things.  She is an easy person to talk to, and someone her friends would often go to for advice, because she was always level-headed, empathetic, and wise.  I raised her to be loyal, and she is; unfortunately, her loyalties are to people who don't deserve it, rather than to herself. 

Last year, her mug shot was posted online, on a Facebook page that seems to exist for the purpose of giving unhappy people someone else to ridicule and hurt.  As if it hadn't been bad enough watching this disease ravage my girl, worse yet was watching people post cruel, mocking comments on her photo as if she were some circus sideshow.  It was horribly painful, and I don't wish it on any parent.  Those people didn't know her, so it was easy to pick on her in her defenseless state.  Yeah, she's not a little girl anymore, and I can't shield and protect her, but that doesn't justify her being persecuted.  Her life is hard enough already, dammit.  Some of her friends saw it, and deluged the site with comments in her defense.  Tears streamed down my face, as I read the beautiful things that were said about her.  They will never know how much that meant to me.

But what about those other people, those who don't have anyone?  Are they worth any less?  Why do we have to be so unkind, just because it's a stranger?  Maybe you don't know that person who's in the People of Wal-Mart line-up, or in that mug shot.  Maybe it makes you feel better not to know.  But what if you did?  Would you still post it?  If you are ridiculing someone with a disease, what does that say about you? 

I'm not doing it to "out" her, or to evoke sympathy.  Our entire family has been devastated by her disease for over two years, and kept fairly quiet online, for the sake of her feelings.  But it's not just about her at this point.  It's a family disease.  I don't feel I'm doing her any favors to tiptoe around this, when I feel her life is on the line.  I'm writing this in the hopes it will help others to understand.  I also hope that someday she will look back and read it and know how very much I love her, and I DO understand.  With one out of twelve people in our society suffering from this disease, I know our family is not alone.  There's a lot of us walking wounded out here.

Just like mental illness, addiction is seen in our society as a character flaw.  There are genetic components to addiction, just as there are to eye and hair color, and diseases such as cancer and heart disease.  In 50% of people with addiction, genetics plays a role.  Some people can dabble in a substance and walk away; my daughter apparently couldn't.  I've been trying to learn and understand the very complex facets of addiction, the physiological effects on the brain and body, and the chemical changes that take place in the brain that make a loving, warm person walk away from those she loves.  And then the hardest part: applying t hose facts, not to some nameless statistic, but to my daughter.  Here's some myth dispelling for starters:

www.psychologytoday.com/blog/where-science-meets-the-steps/201305/5-myths-about-addiction-undermine-recovery

Numerous studies show unequivocally that shaming people does not result in lasting, positive behavior change.  So calling addicts weak, worthless, losers, etc., isn't going to give them the impetus they need to turn their lives around; it's only going to affirm what they believe about themselves to begin with, perpetuating cycles of self-destructive behavior.  There's no "magic bullet" for addiction, but there is plenty of evidence to show that punishing people doesn't help.  Rehabilitation can be very effective, if they are ready to take that step.  Certainly calling someone horrible names is not a proven or effective method to help someone get straight.  For that matter, even the word "addict" is a label and can hurt.  A person is more than their addiction; it's like calling someone in a wheelchair a "cripple."  Words can hurt.

I don't know what my daughter's future holds; everyone is different, but I will never give up hope.  I plan to remind her at every opportunity that her family loves her and we are here for her.  When she is ready to combat this beast, she won't be alone.  Even in moments of deepest grief, I believe with all my heart that eventually she will find recovery and create a healthy life.  So do the other people who really know her.  I will not allow myself to lose sight of her real self, and I see glimpses of it in our sporadic conversations, and in pictures and moments, and I hold on tight to those.

But for the sake of every addicted person out there, and their families, let's please all be kind.  Remember that person who looks terrible, whose picture you posted on your Facebook page, who everyone laughed about and said things like, "gross," and "what a loser," etc., is another human being less fortunate than you.  Consider that they may have no knowledge of, or did not consent to, that picture being online at all.  Think of some of the lowest points in your own life, and ask yourself how you'd feel if they were exploited as online entertainment.  A little empathy goes a long way.

Finding Faith

This is one of those posts I started and never finished.  It went into a pile of "do laters," along with the ones about Robin Williams, celebrity sexual assault scandals, and police-involved shootings, to name a few.  I started writing about a year ago, about the start of the new year, and my hopes and resolutions.  Then life intruded, and it was put aside.  Little did I know that inspiration to finish would come from Jim Carrey, the goofy rubber-faced comedian known for his bathroom humor.

Carrey was addressing graduates in a commencement address for Maharishi University, and showed an insightful, serious side, sprinkled with humor.  He was profound.   Here's a link for anyone interested in watching the whole thing:  Jim Carrey commencement address

It is well worth your time.

The part that meant the most to me, which has reshaped my thinking, was on faith:  "Oh, and why not take a chance on faith as well? Take a chance on faith — not religion, but faith. Not hope, but faith. I don’t believe in hope. Hope is a beggar. Hope walks through the fire. Faith leaps over it."

What's been missing for me is faith.  Hope has been in short supply as well, but faith has been all but nonexistent for some time.  Maybe I had viewed faith as something that requires a certain set of religious beliefs, and there's a rebellious part of me that defies being told what to believe, or even to believe in anything at all.  In resisting drama, I have resisted faith, for faith's sake, and forsaken myself.

There have been situations in my life that have tried my soul, and denied me peace.  I'm not saying I'm unique; we all have problems.  I seem to be bombarded with the lesson of letting go.  Yet how can you let go without faith?  I'm not talking about the faith that drives people to church on Sunday though I have no problem with that.  I guess it's a faith in life, in the universe, in the big scheme of things... the faith that what is meant to happen will happen, and it will all work out.  There has been no deity handing faith my way, although I'm not an Atheist.  There's just been an emptiness, plodding along daily in an uninspired manner, waiting for something to feel better.  Some people call it depression.  I'm not sure I'd go that far; it's more of a shutting down of spirit, like hunkering down.  Either way, it's dismal.

I knew something was holding me back in my soul, but I blamed it on circumstance.  I listened to Jim Carrey's words and then listened again.  I realized that when I let go of the requirement to deify my faith, a funny thing happened: it began to return.  I realized my faith belongs to me, and I get to define it.

I want a deeper faith than to pray to someone that I get what I want.  I'm trying to be more in tune with the infinite, and the cycles of life, knowing that everything comes around eventually.  Maybe not in my way, or on my schedule, but that's okay.  I don't need to be in control, because something great and infinite is already managing that balancing act.  I have about as much control as a wave on the ocean, which will crash into the shore, then drift back to sea.  A wave doesn't have to worry about cycles, it just is.  A wave also doesn't experience critical thought, which can be a blessing and a curse.

Under the steady fluidity of a wave, obstacles eventually wear away.  If I adopt this philosophy I develop faith, even when things feel hopeless.  It also gives me permission to accept the choices of others, because they're riding their own wave, and it's pointless to control that either.  I have worn myself out when I've tried.

Faith is about more than letting go of control; it's an acknowledgement that I was never in control in the first place, and don't need to be.  There's no point in worrying about outcomes, because I can't do anything more than my best. 

So my goals for 2015 are to let go of the negative, take care of myself, and have faith.  If I can let go of worrying about others' choices, I can grow my compassion, because I'm not personalizing those choices.  So I will move through this year with renewed faith, hope, and compassion.  A tall order, but if Jim Carrey can pull it off, I have faith that I can.  There's a defiance in faith that I can respect.

My wish for everyone this coming year is to find your faith and peace in your heart.

Creating Future Peace

I guess the title of this post is what this blog is all about, but I'm referring specifically to race. I grew up in a very small, very white town. My upbringing was a little unusual for my area, because I actually knew Black people as a child. My mother was a Job Corp volunteer, teaching reading to the youth who lived in the barracks of what had formerly been a WWII Navy Base. I was about three at the time and most of these youth were Black. They were away from families, and homesick. Many of them had younger siblings, so when I tagged along with her, I was coddled and adored by these boys. I was their little mascot. I am very grateful to my mother, who believed in civil rights and taught me to as well. She was ahead of her time, and a bit of an anomaly in our backwards little town.

As I grew older, I didn't realize or pay much attention to the fact that there were almost no Black people in our town. I guess I just thought that mostly white populations were the norm. I noticed that many of our local rivers and other features had Native American names. I was vaguely curious about Chief Kilchis, a local chief, who had figured prominently in local history. I lived in what was called, “the Kilchis District,” and there was a small cemetery down the road from my house, where I liked to walk and think. I read the names on the gravestones, and tried to imagine people's stories. I was fascinated to find a gravestone that said, “granddaughter of Chief Kilchis.” I began to wonder why there were no Kilchis Indians. How could it be that there was a whole tribe of them? What happened? As an adult, I became more acutely aware of the racial disparity in my town, and I had heard rumors that we had once been a Ku Kux Klan stronghold. I wondered what other secrets Tillamook held.

I went to the local library and checked out books on local history. There were interesting stories about the Kilchis tribe, but nothing to indicate whatever happened to them. I talked to a local historian and friend, Gerry Hysmith, and she told me an interesting story. Warren Vaughn, a local pioneer, had been the only white man the natives had trusted or liked, apparently (and with good reason). The little cemetery down the road from me had been their sacred burial ground until the early 1900's, when it was taken over by white people. Early on, the Kilchis tribe had brought their complaints to Warren Vaughn about their burial area being desecrated and pillaged by white men. Warren Vaughn vowed to put a stop to it.

At that time, Bay City was a thriving port town, and the county seat. Ships would come in with a load of ballast to weigh down and stabilize them, mostly dirt, rocks, and the sort. Vaughn found a small twig that had been discarded in a load of ballast, and presented it to the natives as a peace offering, and declared it to be his promise to stop the pillaging of native graves. The twig was planted at the top of the cemetery hill, where it grew into a very imposing tree that overlooks the entire cemetery. The tree is pretty much dead, but it stands as a reminder.

About four years ago, I met a woman named Helen Hill, a local playwright, artist, historian, and general renaissance woman. As we chatted, I learned she had written a book called, “A Brief History of Fear and Intolerance in Tillamook County.” She offered me a copy of the book, and I went home and read it in one sitting.

In it, I learned about the Klan activity in Tillamook County. I learned that under that giant sacred tree in “my” little cemetery (where my parents are now buried), lie the children of Chief Kilchis in unmarked graves. I learned that Chief Kilchis died on a reservation in a different county. And I learned why there were no more Kilchis Indians in Tillamook County. Eugenics. The males in that tribe were systematically sterilized. Sterilization is such a handy little word... sounds like neat and clean, but it belies the deep ugliness of what was happening; a young native man would break an arm and be taken to Bay City hospital, where he would be treated, and sterilized. THAT'S what happened. The book answered my questions, but it broke my heart. I knew that the very land I “own” was native land, that my family was only the second white family to ever live on it. I grieved for what my unearned privilege had cost others. I vowed that eventually I would find a way to mark those graves, and I would do my part to ensure that everyone heard this truth. I called Helen and asked her if she had more copies of the book, because I needed to buy them... for my kids, for my friends, for anyone who cares at all about our community. Long story short, she gave me the printing rights to the book, and I have gifted it to many people.

Race has remained at the forefront of my consciousness, as I see the way that racism plays out in my community, from hearing people of Middle East descent, who bought a local convenience store chain, called, “ragheads,” to hearing racist and hateful remarks against Hispanic immigrants, to the fact that there remains very, very few Black people in Tillamook.

A few months ago, I was contacted by a woman from the Rural Organizing Project (www.rop.org) named Sam Hamlin. We met over lunch, and discussed concerns about the sharp rise in racially-based hate crimes in Oregon, along with an alarming increase in White Supremacist activities and presence in the state. The ROP had planned what they referred to as an “emergency response” to this disturbing situation.

A professor from Portland State University, Dr. Walidah Imarisha, had offered to tour rural Oregon, where these groups like to do their dirty work, and present on Black History...not only a history of oppression and struggle, but of resilient, thriving communities of color that had survived against overwhelming odds and contributed a great deal to Oregon. Thanks to ROP, Oregon Humanities, the Tillamook Co. Pioneer Museum, the Women's Resource Center, and Bay City Arts Center, we were able to bring her to Tillamook County. The presentation was called, “Why Aren't There More Black People in Oregon? A Hidden History.”

I had only received 39 RSVPs for the event we set up on September 9^th, so I was a little nervous, but over 60 people turned up that evening to participate in the presentation. It was electrifying to see that many people who are investing in addressing this issue; maybe I hadn't given Tillamook enough credit!

Dr. Imarisha used a timeline of Black History in Oregon to shed light on things that most people didn't know. Horrifying and sad things. She asked how many people in the room had grown up and attended Oregon schools, and many hands went up. She then asked how many people had learned of this history, and I don't believe I saw a single hand. She did a fine job of illustrating that this is everyone's history, not just Black history, and it's important for us all to know it.

Many people take pride in knowing that Oregon was founded as an anti-slavery state, without realizing that it was not anti-slavery out of concern for civil rights. It was because slavery would bring Black people to Oregon and they weren't wanted here. Oregon was intended to be a “white homeland.” I learned about the 1844 Lash Law, and many other egregious and hateful practices in what I was always taught was a progressive, open-minded state. I was sad and ashamed.

Helen Hill was there, along with another local hero, retired Justice of the Peace Neal Lemery. When a member of the crowd asked the presenter to show “proof” that Tillamook was a Sundown Town (in which local laws prevent persons of color from being there after sundown), Neal turned around and said that, until 1982, it was still written into local ordinance. What he didn't mention is that he was instrumental in having it removed from the books, against resistance and personal backlash. He had finished law school and come back to his hometown to practice, only to be disheartened, but ready to do something about it. Helen didn't mention her book, but others did, along with a play she had done about the KKK.

We broke into small groups and discussed what we would like to do to move forward to make our community a more welcoming and safe place to live, for everyone. This was never intended to be a one-time conversation, so we collected contact information from those interested in follow-up. I have recently obtained the notes from that meeting, and I am working with the ROP to set up our next event, where we will have the opportunity to plan ways to make this happen.

Here is a link to the PowerPoint created by Dr. Imarisha for this event. It is available on YouTube, with or without commentary. I'm attaching the version with commentary, in case you were not fortunate enough to hear her in person.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fo2RVOunsZ8

Anyone who is interested in joining this very important conversation is welcome. If interested, please contact me at 503-842-8294, x. 209, or email me at romy@tcwrc.net. You can live anywhere in the world and start these conversations. Ending racism is a pretty tall order, but we have to start somewhere right?

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

Margaret Mead

Palestine

I knew very little about the Palestine/Israel conflict until I read a book a few years ago entitled, “Our Way to Fight” by Michael Riordan.  I’m not claiming to be any kind of expert now, but that book gave a viewpoint of activists, in their own words, who are working for peace in the region, both Israelis and Palestinians.

There is no doubt that this ongoing conflict is complex.  However, it is obvious that there is one side with a huge advantage.  While Hamas terrorists fire rockets into Israel, they are quite literally outgunned by a very powerful Israeli military.  Unfortunately, it is not the Hamas rocket shooters who are paying the ultimate price for the rocket attacks; it is hundreds of Palestinian civilians, many of them children.  Israel somehow thinks it is justified to retaliate by committing indiscriminate genocide against the people of Palestine. 

Before this recent flare-up of events, there has been a slow simmering boil up of tension in the region.  Why would Palestine attack a much larger and better armed foe, when it is obvious the outcome will not be good?  It’s not because they have a death wish; in fact, I believe they are fighting for their lives.  They may be taking a knife to a gun fight, but it’s all they have. 

Palestine has been living under crippling sanctions for decades under the iron fist of Israel, and shamefully, this oppression has been funded and supported by the United States.  Thanks to our habitual propping up of despots and dictators, Israel has become a powerhouse of military might.  Are we so naïve to think they are not abusing that power?

Many people are unaware of the conditions under which Palestinians are forced to live.  They are content to assume that since the Jews are “God’s chosen people,” then whatever they do is okay.  This kind of simplistic and lazy thinking is costing many innocent lives. 

Palestine is screaming for help, and instead of listening, or even taking the time to research the situation, it is being turned into partisan bickering.  This is shameful.

What if we had responded this way to Hitler’s siege of Europe?  Would it matter if this were happening closer to home?  How would you feel if a neighboring country decided that the farm your family had owned for generations belonged to them?  They kicked you out into the street, destroyed your buildings and farm equipment, and moved in people from their own country?  What if, in order to travel to the next county, or even town, you had to sit for hours at a checkpoint set up by that other country, even if it meant not being able to get to a needed surgery, or other critical surface?  And if you protested, it may mean being shot and killed, or your family being killed?  What if your child needed medicine, but the ship carrying those needed supplies was turned away by the neighboring country, just because they could?  This isn’t a sudden, unwarranted attack by Hamas; it’s a response to a crippling and deadly occupation.

Palestinians, and even their Israeli allies, are assassinated, or disappear.  This isn’t about the Jews having a homeland; it’s about Israel committing atrocities against their neighbors and us turning a blind eye, or worst yet, twisting Bible scripture to justify the murder of innocents.

Most Palestinians don’t back Hamas, the militant group responsible for the rockets being fired, which have done very little collateral damage in comparison to the bloody siege instituted by Israel against the Palestinian people.  That may change as the people of Palestine’s outrage grows at the atrocities being committed.   From npr.org:

" 'We faced two Israeli wars before but this one is the most bloodiest and most cruel,' said Abu Awni, 38, of Gaza City. 'Civilians are attacked in their homes. I'm against Hamas, but when Israel is killing my family, then I will join Hamas.'

" 'The world must wake up and stop consuming Israeli propaganda,' he added. 'More than half of the population in Gaza is not affiliated with Hamas. But we have been collectively punished.' "

Frankly, I’m NOT consuming Israeli propaganda.  I think what they are doing is disgusting and we must all speak out against it, and hold our elected officials accountable for aiding and abetting this murderous rampage with our tax dollars.  We have blood on our hands.

Just yesterday, Israel bombed a hospital in the Gaza Strip, killing four people.  As of yesterday, the death toll of Palestinians had risen to over 570, and at least 3,350 wounded.  The death toll in Israel as of that same date was 27, only two of them civilians.  Now they are conducting a ground campaign, raiding West Bank towns and villages and arresting hundreds of citizens, including children.

I believe that Hamas would have never gained power in a population that was not being horrifically oppressed in the first place.  The recent cease-fire that was rejected by Hamas was not rejected because more Palestinians want to die; it was rejected because Israel refuses to lift the seven-year blockade over Gaza, which has crippled society in Gaza, and resulted in immense human suffering.  

David does not usually pick a fight with Goliath.  This is a fight for survival against a death crush.  I watched a video last night of a spider quickly wrapping up a bee, which was helpless.  In a desperate attempt to save its own life, against insurmountable odds while covered in a sheath of webbing, the bee used its last bit of energy to try to sting the spider.  Did that make the bee the aggressor?  At some point, the bee knew it was hopeless, but it continued to use the last of its life force to try to survive.  Palestine doesn’t have fighter planes, or state-of-the-art war equipment, which we have generously helped fund for Israel.  Yet they are in the throes of hell and trying to survive.  All the while, Israel commences air strikes against hospitals, homes, and other places that are decidedly not terrorist targets.  Theirs is a campaign of terror against an entire people, with the intent to wipe them off the face of the earth.

In reading Michael Riordan’s aforementioned book, I heard the voices of Israelis who have seen the truth, who have witnessed the ongoing injustices committed by their own government.  They are appalled and horrified at these crimes against humanity.  I join them in their outrage, and I hope that others will take the time to research this situation, while keeping in mind that someone’s innocent children are being murdered here.

While I realize this conflict is long-term and complex, I cannot remain silent to the Israeli government’s horrific actions against the Palestinian people, or my own government’s complicity in this.  I hope others will join me in speaking out.  This is about more than sticking up for the underdog; it’s about the same spirit that led the world to combat Hitler’s outrageous treatment of the Jews and many others in the earlier part of the 20^th century.  Nobody with a conscience should stand for this.

Groups such as Combatants for Peace, Rabbis for Human Rights, and ICAHD (the Israel Committee Against House Demolitions) are comprised of both Israelis and Palestinians working toward justice and equality in the region.   Here are some other groups doing good work, and some ways to help:

http://www.palestinefreedom.org/
http://www.unrwa.org/newsroom/features/25-ways-help-palestine-refugees
http://www.gazamom.com/2009/01/what-you-can-do-10-way-to-help-gazapalestine-2/
http://www.pchrgaza.org/about/help.html
http://interfaithpeacebuilders.org/
http://www.codepink4peace.org/
Here’s a link to sign a petition to our government to help put a stop to this madness:  http://codepink.salsalabs.com/o/424/p/dia/action3/common/public/?action_KEY=7216

A cursory search of the internet will find many other resources to learn about the situation and assist the victims of the Gaza massacre.  I hope you will join me.

Let Freedom Ring!!

Wedding bells are ringing!  Since Oregon overturned the same sex marriage ban last month, two couples I know have set wedding plans.  Last Saturday, in a lovely intimate setting in a beautiful wooded garden area, my friends stood before friends and family and pledged their ongoing love and commitment.

These two women have been together for 27 years, so I had to stifle a giggle when the minister mentioned the enormous commitment it takes to enter into a marriage.  I’m pretty sure they’ve had some time to think it through.  The wedding was beautiful, with a sing-along, accompanied by guitar and recorder, and even a kazoo (you had to be there!).  Even some tinkling wind chimes in a nearby tree contributed as if on cue.  It was magical.

 

As I sat listening to their vows, watching their glowing faces, I thought of the struggles that people have had throughout American history with such issues, back to the time when only white, male, landowners were allowed to vote. 

The same people who would deny these two women the right to marry appear to have the same mindset (and arguments) as the group that opposed interracial marriage in this country back before the 1967 Supreme Court decision lifting that ban.  The same people who would be horrified at the idea of arranged marriages often seem to have no qualms about thinking that two consenting adults in this country can’t make their own decision about marrying one another. How stupid this same-sex marriage ban will look to future generations!  The “fabric of society” will not be compromised one tiny bit by same-sex marriage any more than it was by abolition of slavery, blacks and women voting, or interracial marriage.  I even feel silly pointing that out.  For some people, progress provokes great and unreasonable fear.

So these were my thoughts as I sat there, and I got a little irritated with myself for focusing out on this and not just enjoying this beautiful, historical moment.  Here I was, a part of something sacred, a moment to savor and celebrate!  Here was a reminder of all that is right in this world, and that’s why I feel that in some ways, the world is getting better, not worse as some would believe. 

It’s taken huge sacrifice, and many people have put jobs, reputations, even lives on the line for the right to marry who they want, and here I was watching this huge victory, in a way a culmination of all that struggle.  I’m honored to be a witness to this, and grateful for all the people who spoke out, knowing laws don’t change unless people MAKE them change.  The tipping point seems to take place when people run out of justifications for their bigotry.  It also makes a difference when it affects your neighbors, your friends, your family members, someone you care about.  The scales of justice have finally tipped in the right direction, and it’s a sweet, long-deserved victory.

What hurts one of us ultimately hurts us all, and I’m committed to helping to create a world where people aren’t being hurt.  It’s a tall order, but one step at a time, things are getting better.  By taking a stand, win or lose, we can embolden people to safely be themselves, knowing there are people who have their back.

My friends who married last Saturday have spent decades in the trenches, as activists for marriage equality.  Their victory is about even more than marriage equality; it’s about promotion of the idea of equal rights for all. 

So what’s next?  Well, the Senate passed the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA) for the first time ever.  President Obama recently announced he’s moving ahead on an executive order that will ban anti-LGBT discrimination among federal contractors.  Now we need passage of ENDA in the House of Representatives to get it signed into law.

June is LGBT Pride Month.  For so many Oregonians, this particular June will be the sweetest one of all.  Let’s relish this moment in history and keep fighting the good fight!

Happy Pride Month!