Another major event I wish my father could have lived to see.
My father was born in 1926 to a Republican family in the mid-western state of Nebraska. Although he did not realize it as a baby, he was lucky enough to be a Caucasian male.
The difference between his life and, say, the life of a Black female baby born in Atlanta in 1926 would be significant.
He would enjoy opportunities and privileges that a large percentage of his age peers only dreamt of at that time - taking as a matter of right the ability to walk into any store, eat in any restaurant, get an education, apply for jobs.
When the War came, my father would enter the armed forces as an Officer... and ride out most of the conflict at a midwestern college being groomed to join an elite group of ~ you guessed it ~ Caucasian men who would be in charge of other servicemen.
Did my dad dream of Civil Rights at this time? Did he dream of equality for women, minorities and gay-lesbian-bisexual-transgender friends?
I have no idea. My honest guess is that he didn't think about these things much as a kid in Nebraska. He lived a good life, an honest and solid life where you accepted things the way they were. I don't imagine that in his relatively privileged world he had need to question the laws of the land.
Were the laws fair? They were fair for him, and that is probably all that mattered to him.
* * * * *
By the time I met my father in 1975 as his own Caucasian infant born in California into a relatively privileged life, a lot had changed.
Thanks to the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s, Californians were well aware of equal rights. I grew up listening to dinner table conversation about Rev. Jesse Jackson and affirmative action. My father had been deeply impacted by the lives and work of John F. Kennedy and Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and he had become a "liberal" Democrat - whatever that meant to him.
He believed in equality and voted Democrat. During my childhood Dad proudly voted for Jesse Jackson as a presidential candidate - making what he felt was a strong political statement. His favorite comedian was Bill Cosby, and his favorite athletes were Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan.
According to my mother, he had few close friends but the people he was close to were of diverse culture and ethnicity. "Your father was a fairly private man," she said, "But race never played a role in determining his friendships." In particular, Dad felt very close to Japanese and Chinese people, along with musicians of all background throughout the world.
In the end, race was pretty much a non-issue for him.
Then there was the issue of homosexuality.
Dad never spoke of sex, not any kind of sex. In fact, he once threatened to wash my mouth out with soap when as a pre-teen I called him a jerk for not letting me go shopping with my friends.
"You clean your mouth, young lady!" he yelled at me. "Don't you KNOW where that word comes from?"
"Jerk?" I asked. "There's nothing DIRTY about saying Jerk! All of my friends say that."
When I *did* find out where the word 'jerk' came from, I laughed out loud. "Oh Daaaaaaddddd," I consoled. "We don't mean it like THAT!!!"
As a fairly naive but rebellious twelve year old I used all kinds of language which shamed my father - all of which, turned out to have a sexual connotation. My girlfriends and I chatted on the phone for hours saying things like:
"Wow, that really sucks!"
"What a jerk!"
"Oh man, I totally screwed up."
You get the picture.
My father bemoaned my 'dreadful' language and implored my mother to reason with me so that I would learn to speak like a 'nice' girl.
Mind you, these were simply words. I never DID any of the aforementioned things as a girl. I didn't even know what I was talking about.
All this to say that, while I don't actually know what his private stance was on matters of sexuality, I know that it was a powerful trigger for him - and that he had a pretty low affective filter for things he perceived to be shameful.
* * * * * * *
When I was seventeen as a gift celebrating my graduation from high school, I flew to New York City to visit my two elder brothers who shared a place in the upper West Side. These men, my father's sons, were my idols. (They still are!) They were so kind, funny and good to me. They took me *everywhere* - to shows, musicals, museums, ballets. They took me shopping. They took care of me, their baby sister.
At some point over coffee and dessert with one of my brothers, he shared with me a little bit of what his life had been like with my father as a kid. Apparently our Dad had been quite the lothario. Women passing through their home like a revolving door. "I had to knock before entering the front door to make sure I wasn't interrupting anything," my brother confided.
So apparently, whatever my dad's views on sexuality may have been - he was a big fan of sex in general. (As a seventeen year old, I found this news to be pretty 'gross'. Now that I'm thirty-five with three children of my own, it strikes me as hilarious.)
Both of my father's sons, adults at the time of his third marriage to my mother and my subsequent birth, were technically old enough to be fathers themselves. Perhaps this explains why they've always treated me a little bit like their own kid. Never in my life have either of my brothers fought with me over whose turn it was in the bathroom or who got to choose what was on TV... but often have they counseled me over failed relationships and life choices, often have they shared resources and support with me.
Perhaps most meaningfully of all, neither of these brothers have ever judged me. Whether I was making a terrible choice or a great choice, they've always just accepted me for who I am and treated me with affection. They've been proud of my successes but never harsh with my mistakes.
In short, my brothers have really given me that kind of unconditional love usually shown only by parents.
And obviously, I adore my brothers.
As it turns out, as it turned out - both of my brothers are gay.
This is something I did not learn until my mid-twenties. Their individual stories are also not mine to share. Suffice to say that both are amazing people and that they've fallen in love (and out of it) with different people over the years, just like everyone does.
My brothers waited a long, long time to share this news with our father. I'm not sure why. Maybe they were concerned about how he might respond... and maybe they had reason to be concerned.
Who knows what my father may have said, or even thought, about homosexuality as a younger man.
All I know is that our entire family rejoiced for them when they 'came out'. Including my father. He loved his sons so much, all he ever wanted for them was true happiness. Whether or not it had occurred to him that their happiness would be found with women or men, at the end of the day (and at the end of his life) he simply wanted them both to be happy and loved.
* * * * * * *
One of my brothers married his long-term partner in a legal ceremony in California in 2008, in a gorgeous seaside wedding, surrounded by both families. It was a beautiful, emotional day for all of us. Our father was present, less than a year from his death.
When my brother's partner asked our father for his hand in marriage, our Dad thought for less than a second before replying, "CERTAINLY!" Despite his frailty, Dad even helped my brother with his tie before the ceremony.
This proud paternal affirmation meant so much to everyone.
For me, the most crucial part of their breathtaking wedding was that my own two sons were there to see their Uncle exchange vows and marry the great love of his life. In fact, it was the first wedding that either of my boys ever attended.
As a mother, this was the most beautiful gift I could have wished for my children. From their youngest age, their understanding of marriage has been very simple:
Love is Love.
When you Love someone, you marry them if you want to!
A few months later, voters in our state of California invalidated the law that legalized the marriages of people like my brother. The will of the people could not actually invalidate his marriage, given that he and his husband had entered into it legally, but the majority of voters in our state decided that in the future, everyday citizens like my brother didn't have the right to marry the person of their choice.
I could go on and on about how angry this turn of events made me, and how WRONG I feel it is to legislate who can enter into a private and sacred commitment with their life partner that will be honored by the state and federal government.
In the end, I chose not to tell my sons about the change in the state law.
"Why do they need to know that?" I wondered. "How can I possibly explain to my children that some people don't think their uncles should be married? By the time they grow up, it WILL be the law of the land that anyone can marry any consenting adult over the age of 18 that they love. I believe it."
I want my three children to grow up in a world where anything is possible. A world where equality is real.
Which explains why, when I first read today's headline, Gay Marriage Legal In New York State! tears began to slide down my face.
My father grew up in a time when it meant *everything* to be a heterosexual Caucasian American male of means.
His grandchildren are growing up in a time when ~ at least in the great state of New York ~ the individual potential of a human life cannot legally be limited according to race, gender OR sexuality.
Their uncles can now legally marry anyone they want to - and so can these precious kids when they grow up.
In other words,
Love is Love is Love is Love is Love.
God bless America. New York, I Love You!!!
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