Well, well, our State Supreme Court made me proud today. Here’s a lovely passage from the decision:
Although the understanding of marriage as limited to a union of a man and a woman is undeniably the predominant one, if we have learned anything from the significant evolution in the prevailing societal views and official policies toward members of minority races and toward women over the past half-century, it is that even the most familiar and generally accepted of social practices and traditions often mask an unfairness and inequality that frequently is not recognized or appreciated by those not directly harmed by those practices or traditions. It is instructive to recall in this regard that the traditional, well-established legal rules and practices of our not-so-distant past (1) barred interracial marriage,71 (2) upheld the routine exclusion of women from many occupations and official duties, and (3) considered the relegation of racial minorities to separate and assertedly equivalent public facilities and institutions as constitutionally equal treatment. As the United States Supreme Court observed in its decision in Lawrence v. Texas, supra, 539 U.S. 558, 579, the expansive and protective provisions of our constitutions, such as the due process clause, were drafted with the knowledge that “times can blind us to certain truths and later generations can see that laws once thought necessary and proper in fact serve only to oppress.” For this reason, the interest in retaining a tradition that excludes an historically disfavored minority group from a status that is extended to all others — even when the tradition is long-standing and widely shared — does not necessarily represent a compelling state interest for purposes of equal protection analysis.
I like this bit, because it’s so well-put, and it rather clearly states some of my ideas in the matter. I realize that there will be a whole new prop come November, and all those poor people who will be married between now and then will have to go to court — again — so they can sit at one another’s deathbeads and buy insurance together and pick up their children from school. Today’s a good day, anyway.
I used to cook, a lot. In grad school, I even had something of a reputation as a cook.
Today’s LAT food section makes me want to cook (it doesn’t always — often, it’s reviews of restaurants for cool people; i.e., not me), but who besides me is going to eat this and this and this?
I’ve been playing Sergio Mendes’ Brasileiro in the car lately. Today, the Little Guy was rather pouty on the way home from school, but at one point he asked me to turn up the music: “It’s happy music, and it helps me be happy.”
That’s why we’re playing it.
So, my house and office are complete and total disaster areas. I’m supposed to be packing, but I’ve been grading, so I’ve let everything go, and we are approaching health code violation status.
But I have a new MP3 player, so I am sorting through all my music. That’s like tidying, right?
Filed under: mediaPosted: May / 15 / 2008
John Phillip Law died.
I wouldn’t have known who he was either, except for the last episode of MST3K - -Diabolik!
We’re scheduling our memorial viewing.
Filed under: ephemeraPosted: May / 15 / 2008
For the past month or more, I’ve been dealing with a “flare-up” of a chronic medical condition that developed after the Little Guy was born. Most of the time, I take my medicine, and I’m OK. I usually have a bit of excitement in the spring — stress and all that — but a round of steroids knocks it out. This time, it didn’t, and I’m taking three medications, plus vitamins to counteract their effects. What this means is, I spend a lot of time in the bathroom, and it isn’t pleasant.
Not only is it embarassing to interrupt a conversation to run off to the bathroom, it is tedious to have to plan every outing around bathroom availability. I’m tired, because it gets me up at night, and because I’m dehydrated and my vitamins and iron are out of whack. I’ve found that the less I eat, the easier things are; unfortunately, I like to eat. It’s scary too, because this condition can lead to some very bad things, and that fear wears on one. And it hurts!
OK, I’ll stop complaining. But I am really looking forward to my colonoscopy on Monday. That’s how bad it is — I’m the only person I know who looks forward to such a thing. I’ve had several, so I know what I’m getting into. I’m lucky to have an early appointment; then I can come home and watch Columbo, nap, and knit. It’s what passes for a vacation.
The Little Guy was full of energy today. He woke up, full of vigor. Today was share day, and they were supposed to share something that started with their first initial. The Little Guy really wanted to take a doughnut. We explained to him that would be rude: “Look I have a doughnut. And you don’t.” We tried to suggest other things last night, but nothing motivated him. This morning, during breakfast, I suggested that we take doughnut holes, enough for the whole class. He bounced out of his chair, into his clothes, and all the way to the doughnut shop. We know the shopowner, a little — it’s the neighborhood doughnut shop — and the Little Guy launched into a high speed description of what we were doing and why. When he stopped talking, she turned to me, and I explained (I’m accustomed to translating on his behalf).
It’s teacher appreciation week, so the Little Guy gave her a bar of soap he’d made, complete with narrative. Kids were supposed to bring flowers from their gardens, but we have no garden. A few weeks ago, the Little Guy and I spent some time with his soap-making kit — melt the soap, mix in colors and scent. He was excited by the soap-making, as we were making it for the teacher, grandmas (for mother’s day), and for Uncle John, who makes soap from scratch. He had been especially excited to be like Uncle John, and hoped that Uncle John would send us some of his soap in return. At any rate, he was happy to give the soap to his teacher.
Apparently, he continued chatty all day long. His teacher told me that, at lunch, he came up to her and the other teachers, and told them that he was trying to figure out how to escape from the school. He explained that he’d thought of going out to the big kid playground, but that only leads to the soccer fields, and that he’d tried to climb the fence, but that didn’t work either. The teacher asked him what he would do if he escaped, and he said, confidently, “I know how to get home.” (Fact is, he probably does). He proceeded to walk around the playground, eyeballing the fences, nudging the lunch tables, imagining his route.
When I picked him up from school, he was standing at the classroom door, distributing doughnuts to the kindergarten masses. He was excited; as he said, it was the real kind of sharing. He didn’t just tell the kids about the doughnuts, he gave them doughnuts. The teacher told me the lunchtime story, and he did too, all the way home. I tried to explain that the principal, his parents, and the cops would be after him if he escaped. He agreed that he shouldn’t escape, but that was because there is only one exit from the school grounds, and he can’t cross the street by himself. The plan fails on pragmatism, not ethics.
All afternoon, he chattered. He narrated dreams he’s had. He read stories to me. He talked about his escape plans. Every eight minutes or so, his lecture was punctuated by, “And you know what?” After Miss Baby woke up, we went out and picked up some dinner and went to a park. He rolled down his window and talked to the lady at the drive through. He talked straight through lunch, and told stories the entire time we were at the park. He kept talking all night long — he even read me the bedtime books.
Exhausting.
I get a daily e-mail from Sojourners (oh, yeah, like you’re surprised I’m one of them). Anyway, here is a lovely quote from today’s e-mail:
If Christ were coming again tomorrow, I would plant a tree today. — Martin Luther
I came home from handbells tonight, and found a police car in the alley behind our garage. Two cops were standing there, talking to a guy sitting on the ground. They closed the door on the police car so I could drive around to park by the garage.
According to Robert Novak, some of our nice Christian neighbors — the ones who think Mc Cain is too liberal — regard an Obama presidency as inevitable… and as divine retribution against our sinful nation.
Here’s a little antidote: Steve Lopez went to All Saints in Pasadena, and felt welcome. In the LAT, the pastor cites Bishop Desmond Tutu’s use of the word “ubuntu,” as he explains, “It’s an African word meaning you can’t be human alone.”
