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Youngest daughter, who has always derived great fulfillment from
social causes, had organized an all-night walk for the American
Cancer Society for her University population, and M went to
Austin to participate this weekend. I've never been any good at
even staying up late, and when I've tried all-nighters, it felt
as if I'd been hit by a truck for two days. So I declined the
invitation to participate and sent money instead - a win-win
solution. But that left me with another weekend alone,
this time in the city.
It happened that a city-wide organization of gender variant
people was having an annual banquet at a Hilton hotel way over
on the west side of town, and I was curious to see what it was
like, and to see if anyone I knew might be there. After spending
the morning shopping and the afternoon bike-riding, I cleaned
up, dressed nicely, and drove across town to the event.
One of the things that isn't intuitive for people who consider
themselves in the mainstream in most important ways is that
those who are in some marginalized group are often no more
tolerant of people unlike them in other ways. As they lament
their poor treatment for their special variance, they
unfortunately treat other groups of unusual people poorly. This
seems to be a hard-wired instinct, a xenophobia response from
cave-man days perhaps. Anyway, this banquet is called a "Unity
Banquet" since it seeks to bring all types of gender variant
people together to encourage understanding and support.
When I arrived, I got a glass of Cabernet and found an empty
table, a favorite tactic, to see who might sit with me. A
married couple joined me right away, he a cross dresser, she a
supportive wife. We exchanged pleasantries, and they asked if I
was waiting for someone, meaning a husband. I told them
truthfully that I was hoping to see a friend here. In
spite of the purpose of the banquet, I learned a long time ago
that some cross dresser's wives are not keen on allowing their
mates to mix with those who have "crossed over," so I thought
this would be the safest approach. As dinner was being served,
we were joined by a middle-aged woman and a large teen-aged girl
in a prom dress with hair in an up-do and a tiara. The woman
explained that they had been neighbors for many years,
occasionally correcting
her pronouns when she realized she had goofed, "he, I mean
she...", as she spoke glowingly of the teen-ager. A bit later,
the parents showed up, a very standard looking mom and dad.
They all lived in a small town on the east side of the city,
where being different would not be easy.
The keynote speaker was a city councilwoman, who happens to be
unashamedly lesbian, and she did a nice job talking about the
struggle for all unusual people to be treated with dignity,
respect, and fairness. I'm not up on city politics, but she
reviewed some of the past history of referenda and ordinances,
making the point that although battles are lost along the way,
the clear trend is toward more acceptance and equal rights for
all. She pointed out that when a petition had been circulated by
fundamentalists a few years back opposing some progressive
ordinance, the average age of the signers was 60. "We'll
outlast them!" she proclaimed.
Among the attendees were several groups of people from major
corporations, like Shell and Motorola, who have strong
policies supporting the right of employees to be different, with
real benefits and policies, rather than empty talk. It is ironic
that while some politicians pitch divisive issues to the
fundamentalists to win votes, and the news media are always
roiling the controversy, corporate America has quietly figured
out that it is the content of one's character and the
capabilities and creativity one brings to the company that
counts. (enough alliteration?) As I've written in
previous essays, the most brilliant people are invariably
eccentric in some way or another.
After the dinner and speech, there was lots of picture taking,
and I had the opportunity to chat with the teen-ager sitting
beside me. She was charming, telling me that this banquet
was taking the place of her prom, since she couldn't really
participate as she would want to at her school. I asked her about her plans
for the future, and she talked with passion and optimism of
going to college and starting a career in social work to help
others like herself. I have no doubt she will be a success.
And I told her so.
Since it was way past my bedtime, I said goodbye to everyone and
made my way through the maze of hallways to the front door, then
stepped out into the crisp, clear night. The father was standing
out in the portico smoking, and as I passed, I said "You two are
great parents, supporting your child as you are. It is all too
rare." He smiled and said, "Why, thank you - thank you very
much," as I turned and walked toward the car. |
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I was home alone last weekend, since M was in the great white
north for her mother's memorial service. I had offered to
accompany her, but she thought it would be better if I stayed
home this time. I respect her judgment on this. When she
returned, she did say that her brother's wife has become my
advocate. In one way this is a peculiar thing since her
political views are usually pretty conservative, but in another
way, it makes sense, since she has always been one who enjoys
taking an opposing view in a debate, a trait we share. It
probably also helps that we are both "outsiders" in that family,
experiencing the subtle moments of discomfort that always occur
with in-laws, when their old stories and traditions exclude us
interlopers.
On Saturday, I had just finishing mowing the grass and preparing
the boat for summer and grabbed a beer to sit on the patio with
the dog to cool off when someone came around the house and said,
"Anyone home?" Much to my delight, it was an old friend whom I
hadn't seen in a while, the one who spent the day with me when
my special situation was revealed to all my coworkers, and I was
in a bad way, a couple of years ago. If there are angels among
us, this friend is the closest evidence I've seen. She had
brought a sympathy card over for M, and I invited her to sit for
awhile.
When you know someone so well for 25 years, when your kids grow
up together, when they are atop your guest list for any social
activity, you learn all of their little likes and dislikes, the
hopes and the heartaches they hold in their heart. She asked how
I was going to grow a garden this year, knowing how important
and spiritual this annual ritual is to me. I told her I was
letting the land lie fallow, growing wildflowers, considering my
need to work 200 miles away during the week. She
agreed that this was appropriate and went to her truck to
retrieve some seedlings she had grown, describing while
sketching on a pad how the
blooms would look when they came up in the idle garden. We
talked about our worries over our children, who have unique
opportunities and challenges as they are all on the cusp of
adulthood. We
talked of the future, revisiting an old plan concocted years ago
after a few too many one evening to start our own microbrewery
together. If I had thought to put on a CD of Arlo Guthrie
singing Alice's Restaurant Massacree, we could have brought back
another flood of memories of good old days - but maybe next
time.
After three hours that went by too quickly, I reluctantly let
her be on her way back home. As I thought about how much I
enjoyed our little visit, I realized how starved I am for
friends like this in the city, friends with whom you can share
anything and everything, who accept you with all your faults and
foibles, who will come when you really need them, no
questions and no excuses, who care about your hopes and dreams.
When I traveled back to the city on Sunday, I decided that I
shouldn't have to sacrifice my garden this year. I drove to the
store and bought two tomato plants, pots, and potting soil, and
made my own little city-garden out on the balcony. With a
southern exposure and lots of love, I'm hopeful that they will
get what they need to bear fruit. If they do, I'll have an
excuse to go visit my friend in a couple of months,
offering my finest gifts.
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 Sunshine,
low humidity, and a high temperature in the low seventies -
prime bicycling weather. M and I had a long ride on Saturday
morning, then drove to the zoo to walk around in the afternoon.
When we had seen all the animals, we saw that there was a Japan
Festival at the Japanese Garden nearby, so we walked around
there as well. We capped the day off with pizza and beer at a
local spot near the apartment, sitting outside of course. Tired
legs and sore behinds, but well worth it.
When we got home, we found out the pope had passed, and later in
the evening, M's brother called to say that their mother, whose
health had been declining for several months, had passed as
well. In one day, nature shared with us her infinite
bounty, but reminded us that our time to experience it is short
and precious.
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