"The fire is just a big raging animal right now," said Darby Marshall, spokesman for the Monterey County Office of Emergency Services

The fires continue raging--and now the town of Big Sur, which is about 70 miles from where I live in San Jose, has been evacuated. Yes, the whole town. 25 miles of one of the most beautiful coastal highways in the world have been shut down. Big Sur is one of nature's amazing beauties, with its old redwoods and stunning coastline.The fire was started by lightening. And although we've been dealing with more than 1,000 fires in California during the past couple of weeks, this one is the worst and most out of control right now.

Our skies in my neighborhood have cleared up significantly, though, so certainly progress is being made on many of the fires. I was able to go on a long walk today without my lungs tightening up. In fact, I'd walked for 90 minutes along the Los Gatos Creek Trail and was cooling off in the shade of Campbell Park with my dog Max, when my cell phone rang in my fanny pack. It was my friend Kelly asking me if we were going to walk today. I told her to come over to the park, and we walked another hour together.

Sometimes I feel like someone who was born to do a Walkabout. I feel like I could walk for hours, days, months...Maybe I should try it sometime. Maybe for my 50th birthday (five years hence) I'll walk 50 miles.

That's nothing, though, compared to what my friend Laura is doing for her 60th birthday. She and her husband are training right now to walk 100 miles: from Squaw Valley to Auburn, California (my hometown).

Another friend, Michele, hiked the Grand Canyon for her 50th birthday.

Annie's 50th birthday is coming up in January, and she's trying to decide what to do to commemorate it. She's leaning toward a winter cabin in the snow, drinking hot toddies--and preferably getting snowed in so we have to miss a few days of work.

Ah, but it feels strange to be talking about snow with all this heat we've had lately. On my walk today, I enjoyed the first Technicolor-blue (rather than brown) sky that I've seen in a while. Usually bluest of blue skies are daily summer fare here.

This blog entry is wandering ... apropos since I'm talking about walking, I suppose. Here's an update on my writing. I wrote a book review that was just accepted (with revisions I need to make by next week) by a journal that's actually paying me a little sumpthin. I have so many stories, essays and poems forthcoming in print and online journals and anthologies that I've kind of lost count. I used to be very meticulous and writing all this stuff down, but now I just enjoy the surprise when a curious package comes in the mail and I rip it open to find that, ah yes, that journal that accepted my X has come out.

On the writing-the-novel front, I've had a few days (okay, weeks) of being really stuck but had a kind of breakthrough this morning--a structural breakthrough. I think I now understand the novel's central thread that will weave through each part to hold it together. I think.

Now I need to find the damn voice. I've never had voice elude me quite this way. Kelly and I talked about this on our walk. I do think the fact that I'm telling the story in third person is making finding a lively voice more difficult. First person voice is usually a no-brainer for me. Third person voice is always more elusive. That--and the fact that the characters all lived more than 50 years ago. It all feels a little distant still.

I need to find some way into the intimate space of the characters' lives that will give me an "alive" voice. Kelly suggested I imagine a character telling the story. Even if I keep the novel in third person omniscient, I can imagine an-invisible-to-the-reader person who is speaking. A person always has a voice. I like the idea. Now I have to wrap my mind around who that speaker might be.

Crowing about family

I haven't seen my cousin Joanna in more than 20 years, but I will get to soon--because next week, Joanna and her husband Mike are coming out to California from Boone, North Carolina for a family reunion.

Especially with the loss of my father last year and my mother's subsequent Alzheimer's diagnosis, it will be good to reconnect. My mom is very excited about seeing her niece. (Joanna's mom, who died in the early 1990s, was my mom's sister.)

Since the plans for them to come out have been solidified, Joanna, my sisters and I have been enjoying email talk and picture sharing. Recently, Joanna sent me some pictures of the chickens they raise. They take the beautiful, varied-colored eggs to the Farmer's Market, where they let kids pet the chickens. What a great way to educate kids about where eggs come from.

They will sell chickens, but only if people prove they have the set-up to give the chickens a quality life.

Soon, Joanna's getting a tiny kitchen trailer and will be selling baked goods and egg-type dishes. Here's an example of some of what she'll be selling through their business called Eggcetera. Makes my mouth water just reading it! How lucky am I to have a cousin who can cook like this--especially since she'll be bringing some of her home-cooked goods to the family reunion!

Broccoli, Potato, and Cheddar Frittata from the skillet
Grilled Zucchini Rolls with Herbs and Cheese
veggie Egg Roll
veggie Casserole
veggie Quiche
Egg Salad Sandwich
Grilled Cheese Sandwich
Baked Peach French Toast
Grilled French Toast

Scoop of:
Potato Salad
Mac & Cheese - not out of a box
Cheese Nachos with mild Salsa
Squash/Zucchini/Red Onion
Garden Risotto

Sweetness:
Fruit Scoop with Vanilla Yogurt and Craisins
Cheesecake
Nutella Banana
Fresh Eggnog

Getting licensed

I didn't have to be the groom after all. When Annie and I went to sign up for our marriage license today at the San Jose County Clerk's Office, we discovered that the application has been changed from "Bride" and "Groom" to "Party A" and "Party B." I like that we're a PARTY. We sure are!

Annie was "Party A." Since she's never been married before, we thought she deserved first slot.

Behind us in line stood a man and a woman holding their baby. They looked and sounded like they were Indian (from India) and wore traditional clothing; the woman's red dress was stunning. Annie and I went ga-ga over their gorgeous 10-month-old son who had shining black eyes and long black curls. I loved that another unconventional couple was part of the energy in the room.

After doing our historical civic duty, we drove over to Santa Cruz and ordered a massive carrot cake that will probably feed us for days after the wedding, not that I'm complaining. After taking our order, the young woman behind the counter said, "Congratulations!"

It feels good to plan and to be a party!

Proud

We didn't go to SF Pride today. Annie had to work (she grades Art PRAXIS exams several times a year), and I enjoyed a day at home gardening, cooking, baking, and wine drinking.

We've been to a lot of pride parades over the years in Seattle, Portland, San Jose, San Francisco and Santa Cruz. As co-chair of GLSEN in Seattle, I spearheaded the creation of a school bus float that we used to march in the Pride parade there.

My first Pride parade was in SF in 1994, the year Annie and I met. I still hadn't come out to my parents yet, and was anxious about it. As we stood cheering on a huge contingent of PFLAG people marching by, I locked eyes with a woman who wore a tee-shirt reading, "My daughter's a lesbian. Get over it." She walked over to me through the throngs and gave me a big hug and said, "You remind me of my daughter." Could anything have been a better sign to me that all would be well? (Several years later, my mom was involved in starting a PFLAG chapter in her small community.)

Although Pride can be moving and a Mardi Gras of fun, I'm not too fond of the huge crowds. So today I felt the spirit reading about world-wide Pride online and was especially moved by reading about Pride in India, Peru--and Bulgaria's first pride march (and disturbed at the arrests of 60 people who were trying to disrupt it). I have a feeling next year it'll be old hat--basically ignored by all but a freakish few.

Still, I felt a little tug at missing out on seeing Gavin Newsom in the parade...

... not to mention Cyndi Lauper.

On Fire

Thursday morning as I walked to the gym, the sky was pure brown and the sun red, a result of more than 1,000 fires burning in California. Not many of the fires are closer to us than 50 miles and, still, it's been looking and smelling apocalyptic around here.

A number of people I know who live in the mountains and canyon areas have been evacuated or are on evacuation alert. It's been an eerie start to the summer.

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I finished reading Dan White's The Cactus Eaters this morning and wrote a review on Amazon. It's not hyperbole when I say I haven't laughed this much while reading in a long time.

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My friend Sally Ashton is guest blogger this week at The Best American Poetry blog. Her first entry today makes the point very well that Emily Dickinson was, well, a lot sexier than critics typically give her credit for.

Compulsory reading

I love the way this graphic essay by Alison Bechdel explores her reading life. In the piece, Bechdel laments the way adults force certain books on young people--including the canon, other reading lists, and required summer reading. (Read the rest here.)

When I was in high school, my mom was reading Fear of Flying and laughing and laughing. I asked her if I could read it. When she finished it, she just handed it over. That’s the best kind of adult support of a young person’s reading: an adult who gets engaged in a book. Young people who see that can't help but get curious. And it's best if adults don't worry about the "taboos" in books because those are the very things that are likely to get young people reading!

Reading should not involve guilt over what one has and has not read. Bechdel hits that nail on the head.

Award-winning filmmaker Michael Moore’s next film to take on homophobia?

I'm a little late to the party on this one, but I wonder if this--as reported here--is indeed true?

Certainly if he's currently making the film he'll have ample exciting footage to shoot here in California as of late.

Hey, Michael Moore! You can come film my wedding!

"Michael Moore has tackled Downsizing, School Shootings, the culture of fear, The Iraq War, President Bush, and most recently - the American healthcare system. What’s next for the controversial documentary filmmaker? Homophobia. That’s right, Moore has revealed that homophobia and the anti-gay Christian right movement might be the topic of his next documentary.

“I think it’s a very ripe subject for someone like me to make a movie about. Simply because we are not there yet and it remains one of the last open wounds on our soul that we are not willing to fix yet,” Moore told The Advocate. “There is nowhere in the four Gospels where Jesus uses the word homosexual.’ The right wing has appropriated this guy … and they have used him to attack gays and lesbians, when he never said a single word against people who are homosexual. Anyone who professes to be a Christian and does that is certainly not following the teachings of Jesus Christ.”

Gay marriage has certainly become one of the hot button issues in this country. I can imagine the movie now: Moore will probably bring a Gay couple to a Catholic church to get married. But when the parish turns him away, and Moore will pull out some clever funny idea that will get America to think “why not?”"

Indigo Girls

Last night we saw the Indigo Girls in concert at a relaxed club venue called the Catalyst in Santa Cruz. I'm not a groupie, but I love their sound, and I've now seen them probably eight or more times in California and Washington.

The very first Indigo Girls song I heard was "Hammer and a Nail" on my car radio. I turned it up and thought, "Who IS this?" When the announcer said that was a new song by the "Indigo Girls" I ran out bought their two tapes.

Yes, tapes. Tells you how long ago that was.

When I went to live in Japan, the Indigo Girls came with me. Their music meant a lot to me as I moved into my 30s. Amy and Emily sang the promise of making positive change in the world, of making meaningful art, and of being yourself, fully and completely.

Being the naive soul that I was, it didn't dawn on me that they were lesbians until I fell in love with a woman for the first time. I was amazed at how I'd been drawn to them before I'd consciously realized that being with a woman was a possibility for me.

Here they are on Charlie Rose talking about the genesis of their band, as well as about being political women and lesbians. They are so refreshingly real and honest:



Here they are, rockin'; they sang this song last night.




And here's "Hammer and a Nail," the first song I heard:

Today: Another post about a student.

One of my students from last semester submitted a poem she wrote in the class to a local magazine, and they posted it on their website.

Here it is.

Way to go, Amanda!

The Lesson

A student emailed me asking me if I would consider adding him to one of my fall semester creative writing classes. He can't add it himself, he said, because he took it before and received a low grade. He wants to retake it so he can boost his GPA. So he needs an add code.

That was his reason. To boost his GPA.

Not because he loves writing.

Not because he's devoted to being creative and wants to give it another go because as a frosh he didn't know what he cared about.

He included not one reason that would make me excited about adding him into the class.

I've seen worse, but the letter had a few grammar and spelling errors. On the plus side, unlike many students who email me, he used capital letters and punctuation--and a salutation of "Good Day Professor Evans."

I could have hit delete. Or flat-out said "no." (Or "yes," I suppose.) Instead, I wrote the following intended to give him a free lesson: Write to your audience. (It remains to be seen if he goes for it.)

Dear X,

Are you saying you want to take a creative writing class solely to raise your GPA? Why should I add you when there are many students who haven't had a chance yet to take creative writing? Why did you not pass the class in the first place? Why would this time be different?

Try again. Send me an email that proves to me you're a good writer and a creative person. Make it excellent, creative and convincing--and edit it to perfection. Think of it like an audition to get added into the class. If it's good writing, I will consider your request.

Sincerely,
Kate

Interconnectedness

Today the air was very smokey here because of all the freak California fires caused by lightening. It feels a little apocalyptic, especially with a red sun in the brown sky. But I'm trying to stay grateful that it's summer break. I've been working on my historical novel, lots of house projects, and wedding details.

All of these things are huge: writing a novel, working on an 80-year-old house, and planning a wedding. I'm trying to be zen about about it all by not writing out too many lists (I can be manic that way) and by enjoying the process.

I used to avoid taking on big projects because I thought of them as a series of steps to take. Trying to keep track of those steps became an irritant. Truly, it was an issue of control. I thought of the steps in a big project as a way to attempt to control the future. This brought anxiety into my life, not joy.

I enjoy life more, though, when I think of writing a scene, or printing out invitations, or planting flowers, as an opportunity to engage with the moment. That individual moment resonates with--and in a way reflects--the whole (ala Chaos Theory). Writing a scene is writing the whole novel, in essence. Remembering this helps me to engage with life in a way that's not about getting to the end but enjoying the journey. Anyway, why rush to the finish line, especially since the ultimate finish line is death. I'm in no rush.

“The journey not the arrival matters.” - T. S. Eliot

We rolled in this evening from our trip to Leucadia, a funky surfer town in San Diego's North County, where we visited my sister, her husband and my nephew Brock. He's 15 and spends most of his time when he's not forced to be in school hanging out with his friends fishing, kayaking and playing basketball or soccer. What a life. Just down the hill from one of the most gorgeous beaches in the world, they have a cute little pad with a great patio where most of the non-work living occurs.

The first day my sister and I walked 9 miles on the beach and didn't get to an end. It has a impressive vastness to it. When we were finished we were so hot we jumped into the water. There's something about salt water that's so soothing. Perhaps because being in the ocean is like being in the earth's womb. Or maybe it's like being inside a big margarita.

Another highlight was visiting the home and art studio of Rodney "Rodrigo" McCoubrey, a friend of my sister's. His art--made of recycled materials --is fanciful and meaningful. He turns garbage into beauty. He's a wonderfully quirky guy with incredible amounts of energy. We bought three of his fish pieces.

Back home I got some great news that I'm invited to be a featured reader at the Atlanta Queer Literary Festival in October. I like having a travel plan on the books. Travel is good for the soul: it expands my world, and it also helps me to appreciate home anew.

Southern California dreaming

We're heading down south for a few days. I've been posting a lot lately, so if you're having Kate DTs when I'm gone (I know I flatter myself), check out a previous post that you may not have seen yet:

Summer, and the livin' is easy
Camera shy
Reading is my oxygen
Today is my second father's day
Patience and kindness
Obama's statement to the LGBT community
The Lurie distinguished professor is . . .
Wedding on the water

And here's what was going down exactly one year ago:
Red chair

Finally, here are some photos from our last trip down south to Venice Beach. It was a couple of months ago, but we finally got the pictures on the computer...

Poem by Rick Campbell

Heart

My heart was suspect.
Wired to an EKG,
I walked a treadmill
that measured my ebb
and flow, tracked isotopes
that ploughed my veins,
looked for a constancy
I've hardly ever found.
For a month I worried
as I climbed the stairs
to my office. The mortality
I never believed in
was here now. They
say my heart's ok,
just high cholesterol, but
I know my heart's a house
someone has broken into,
a room you come back
to and know some stranger
with bad intent has been there
and touched all that you love. You know
he can come back. It's his call,
his house now.

Gore Vidal's got the curmudgeon thing down

Questions For Gore Vidal, Literary Lion
Interview by DEBORAH SOLOMON

Q: At the age of 82, you will be publishing your new collection of essays this week, which seems likely to confirm your reputation as one of America’s last public intellectuals. Why do you think that critics have traditionally praised your essays more than your fiction, which includes “Burr,” “Myra Breckinridge” and 20 other novels? A: That’s because they don’t know how to read. I can’t name three first-rate literary critics in the United States . I’m told there are a few hidden away at universities, but they don’t print them in The New York Times.

Are you saying your novels have been critically neglected? I don’t even read most reviews, unless there is a potential lawsuit on view. I’ve never had much attention paid by critics — nor has anybody else in the United States of America, as Mr. Obama likes to call it.

And what about Mr. McCain? Disaster. Who started this rumor that he was a war hero? Where does that come from, aside from himself? About his suffering in the prison war camp?

Everyone knows he was a prisoner of war in North Vietnam. That’s what he tells us.

Why would you doubt him? He’s a graduate of Annapolis. I know a lot of the Annapolis breed. Remember, I’m West Point, where I was born. My father went there.

So what does that have to do with the U.S. Naval Academy down in Annapolis? The service universities keep track of each other, that’s all. They have views about each other. And they are very aware of social class and eventually money, since they usually marry it.

How, exactly, is your cousin Al Gore related to you? They keep explaining it to me, and I keep forgetting.

What about your grandfather, Thomas Gore of Oklahoma? He invented the whole state. It was Indian territory. There was no state until Senator Gore.

In 1968, during the Nixon-Humphrey race, you became the voice of liberalism in a series of televised debates with William Buckley. Any plans to be a pundit at the coming presidential conventions? No.

How did you feel when you heard that Buckley died this year? I thought hell is bound to be a livelier place, as he joins forever those whom he served in life, applauding their prejudices and fanning their hatred.

You live in California , where last month the State Supreme Court overturned the ban on same-sex marriage. As someone who lived with a male companion for 50-plus years, do you see this as a victory for equality? People would ask, How could you live with someone for so long without any problems of any kind? I said, There was no sex.

Were you chaste during those years? Chased by whom?

Are you a supporter of gay marriage? I know nothing about it. I don’t follow that.

Why doesn’t it interest you? The same reason heterosexual marriage doesn’t seem to interest me.

If we look at the situation apart from you — It’s my interview, so we’ve got to stay with me.

Have you ever considered leaving the United States permanently? No, it’s my subject.

Do you read a lot of contemporary fiction these days? Like everyone else, no, I don’t.

Anyone in the 20th century you might have a kind word about? Yes, I liked Italo Calvino, and I thought he was the greatest writer of my time.

Your new collection includes an essay in which you note, “Calvino does what very few writers can do: he describes imaginary worlds with the most extraordinary precision and beauty.” What about American novelists? Can’t think of one. Norman Mailer? Oh, dear, we’re not going to go into pluses and minuses now. Philip Roth? Ditto.

I admire Roth. He never became complacent. He had no reason to. He’s a good comic writer.

What do you think is your own best novel? I don’t answer questions like that. Ever. And you ought not to ask them.

Well, it was a great pleasure talking to you. I doubt that.

Summer, and the livin' is easy

If you're interested in doing some work for an online literary magazine, the lovely poetry and art journal Convergence needs editors. Contact Lara Gularte at (laralg AT aol DOT com) before June 30th.

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I'm so loving summer. I'm getting a lot of writing done (worked 12 hours yesterday on the memoir). I've been doing a lot of swimming at the Y, gardening, and taking long neighborhood and beach walks.

I love to take long, meditative walks, just letting my mind wander. Sometimes I do a little scene-writing in my head. I kind of overdid it with Max, our Pomeranian the other day, however; he wasn't his usual self for a whole day. His tail was droopy, and he didn't display his usual verve. Perhaps 8 miles in the heat wasn't a good idea. He's okay now, though. If I go near his leash in the kitchen he dances on the linoleum.

Annie and I have a few home projects facing us, like putting in a patio in our backyard. Yes, we strong and powerful women are going to do it ourselves. Let's hope the backyard table and chairs won't wobble horribly afterward.

Tomorrow's a Mom day. We're going to the movies. I was born to be an at-home writer. Jobs are over-rated.

Historic day II

There are so many great photos popping up online of all the happiness, joy and love that today--the legalization of marriage equality in California--is bringing to so many people.

Previously I posted a photo of long-time activists (founders of the Daughters of Bilitis) and partners for 53 years Phyllis Lyon (age 84) and Del Martin (age 87) getting married last night.

Here are a few more of my favorites:

Historic day

And it begins today... Annie and I were teary-eyed as we read about marriage equality beginning today in California. In the picture above, Del Martin, 87, and Phyllis Lyon, 84, are married by San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom , center, in a special ceremony at City Hall in San Francisco, Monday, June 16, 2008.

And here's a piece in my local paper.

Annie and I are still in the planning stages of our wedding. When we fell in love 14 years ago, we never could have imagined this day.

Camera shy

Apparently you're sadly 20th century if you're an author who doesn't have a video on YouTube.

This video by the pretty darn funny Marc Acito promotes his new novel Attack of the Theater People.



This makes me a little insecure. I don't have half of his wit and charm--even less so on film, where my nose gets even more Slavic and my words desert my brain. I think I'll just have to continue to be 20th century while I bury myself in my work.

And I'll let my publisher do the video for my book. I recently discovered that's a little perk of my indie press: they create a video, and I don't even have to be in it.

Reading is my oxygen

My colleague Dan White's memoir, The Cactus Eaters: How I Lost my Mind--and Almost Found Myself--on the Pacific Crest Trail, was chosen by Salon as a top summer read. Salon talks about Dan's book even before David Sedaris' new one!

I have the book on my bed stand and will begin it soon. I'm looking forward to it because I'm sure it's hilarious and poignant, as the reviews say--and also because I will be teaching the book in one of my classes in the fall, and Dan will be visiting the class.

Also on my bed stand is a novel I'm writing a review on (I have an August 1 deadline) and and a huge stack of books I'm wading through as research for my historical novel.

I love books. I love reading. Life seems off somehow if I'm not in the middle of a meaningful story.

Today is my second Father's Day

without him.

And it's my cousins' first without their father, my Uncle Bob, who died on Friday. He was my mother's last sibling in a family of four. Here's a picture of him with my mom on the left and his wife of 60 years, my Aunt Ruby, on the right.

In her mid-80's, Aunt Ruby is still an amazing piano player. We spent a lot of Thanksgivings and Christmasses when I was kid at their line-green house on a hill in San Francisco. Aunt Ruby would play raucous honky tonk while the adults all drank beer and we kids played bumper pool and compared our Christmas gifts.

Bob and Ruby bought the house in 1955. It still has a beautiful old stove my Aunt Ruby polishes to perfection and the original tiles in the kitchen and bathroom. The kitchen window overlooks the intricate garden my Uncle Bob tended to for years. You can also see the bay and the docks where he worked.

Three days before Uncle Bob died, we (Mom, my sister and I) sat before that remarkable view at the kitchen table with with him, my aunt and cousin. We talked, told stories and laughed for hours. He knew his cancer was terminal. He was thrilled with all the "free stuff" hospice was giving to him: a cane, a wheelchair, medicines, care. He said he'd had a really good life.

If you still have your dad, love him extra today.

"There are three rules to writing a novel. Unfortunately no one knows what they are."

Literary Rejections on Display quoted this famous saying by Somerset Maugham and asked us if we DO know what they are. Here's my closest guess:

1. Put your butt in the chair every day.

2. Write on a laptop that doesn't connect to the internet.

3. "You are freer than you think." (Foucault).

What think you?

Patience and kindness

Here's a picture of Annie and me taken by my old high school buddy Nancy when we were visiting her down in L.A. She did something graphic- artisty (yeah, she's one of those computer whizzes) to make it look kind of like a cartoon.

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There are horrible fires burning in the Santa Cruz Mountains again. A bunch of people in the little town of Bonny Doon have been evacuated. My friend Stacey lives there. I've been trying to get ahold of her but can't...I'm worried...

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And to add to the apocalyptic feeling that can be on the flip-side of summer's joy: As I was driving to the store this afternoon, I saw that a nearby street was barricaded. Many cops . . . a couple of people on the side of the road in tears . . . and shoes and clothes in the road.

When I came home I checked my neighborhood listserv, and the tragic message was indeed posted:

A middle school girl was riding her bike in the bike lane away from the nearby school (today was the last day of the school year) when she was hit by a 4x4 truck that was making a turn. The driver was apparently watching for an opening between oncoming cars (familiar scenario?) and didn't see the bike rider. She hit the girl head-on and dragged her and the bike under the vehicle. The child was taken to ER in critical condition, but she didn't make it. The woman driver and possibly her daughter were sitting in one of my neighbor's driveways sobbing for two hours.

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Be patient on the road. Be kind to one another.

Obama's statement to the LGBTQ community

In response to some of the comments I received on the previous post, here's a message that Barack Obama issued to the gay community last Saturday. Read carefully. I could never imagine these words coming from McCain:

"I am proud to join with our lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered brothers and sisters in celebrating the accomplishments, the lives and the families of all LGBT people during this Pride season. Too often, the issue of LGBT rights is exploited by those seeking to divide us. But at its core this issue is about who we are as Americans.

"It's time to live up to our founding promise of equality by treating all our citizens with dignity and respect. Let's enact federal civil rights legislation to outlaw hate crimes and protect workers against discrimination based upon sexual orientation and gender identity or expression. Let's repeal 'don't ask, don't tell' and demonstrate that the most effective and professional military in the world is open to all Americans who are ready and willing to serve our country. Let's treat the relationships and the families of LGBT Americans with full equality under the law.

We are ready to accomplish these goals because of the courage and persistence of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered people who are working every day to achieve equal rights -- the gay couple who demands equal treatment in our family laws as they raise their children, the lesbian soldier who wants nothing more than to serve her country openly and honestly, the transgendered workers who ask for the simple dignity of being judged by the quality of their work.

Generations of LGBT Americans, at once ordinary and extraordinary, have made possible this moment in our history. With leadership and hard work we can fulfill the promise of equality for all."

(from Joe.My.God)

McCain: "I am a illiterate who has to rely on my wife"

Yes, he said "a illiterate"--the form and content perfectly matched:




I guess it's McCain video day on this blog. Watch him in action with America's sweetheart, Ellen. History is so obviously going to prove him wrong. Separate is not equal:

What the straights can learn from the gays

From a New York Times article based on a study of same-sex couples:

Notably, same-sex relationships, whether between men or women, were far more egalitarian than heterosexual ones. In heterosexual couples, women did far more of the housework; men were more likely to have the financial responsibility; and men were more likely to initiate sex, while women were more likely to refuse it or to start a conversation about problems in the relationship. With same-sex couples, of course, none of these dichotomies were possible, and the partners tended to share the burdens far more equally.

While the gay and lesbian couples had about the same rate of conflict as the heterosexual ones, they appeared to have more relationship satisfaction, suggesting that the inequality of opposite-sex relationships can take a toll.

“Heterosexual married women live with a lot of anger about having to do the tasks not only in the house but in the relationship,” said Esther D. Rothblum, a professor of women’s studies at San Diego State University. “That’s very different than what same-sex couples and heterosexual men live with.”

Other studies show that what couples argue about is far less important than how they argue. The egalitarian nature of same-sex relationships appears to spill over into how those couples resolve conflict.

One well-known study used mathematical modeling to decipher the interactions between committed gay couples. The results, published in two 2003 articles in The Journal of Homosexuality, showed that when same-sex couples argued, they tended to fight more fairly than heterosexual couples, making fewer verbal attacks and more of an effort to defuse the confrontation.

Controlling and hostile emotional tactics, like belligerence and domineering, were less common among gay couples.

Same-sex couples were also less likely to develop an elevated heartbeat and adrenaline surges during arguments. And straight couples were more likely to stay physically agitated after a conflict.

“When they