‘Hi honey. This is Daddy. Is Mommy near the phone?’

‘No, Daddy. She’s upstairs in the bedroom with Uncle Paul.’

After a brief pause, ‘But honey, you haven’t got an Uncle Paul.’

‘Oh yes I do, and he’s upstairs in the room with Mommy, right now.’

Brief Pause. ‘Uh, okay then, this is what I want you to do. Put the phone down on the table, run upstairs and knock on the bedroom door and shout to Mommy that Daddy’s car just pulled into the driveway.’

‘Okay, Daddy, Just a minute.’

A few minutes later the little girl comes back to the phone. ‘I did it, Daddy.’
‘And what happened, honey?’ He asked.

‘Well, Mommy got all scared, jumped out of bed with no clothes on and ran around screaming. Then she tripped over the rug, hit her head on the dresser and now she isn’t moving at all!’

‘Oh my God!!! What about your Uncle Paul?’

‘He jumped out of the bed with no clothes on, too.

He was all scared and he jumped out of the back window and into the swimming pool. But I guess he didn’t know that you took out the water last week to clean it. He hit the bottom of the pool and I think he’s dead.’

Long Pause.

Longer Pause.

Even Longer Pause.

Then Daddy says,

‘Swimming pool? Is this 546-7213?”

One evening a husband, thinking he was being funny, said to his wife ‘Perhaps we should start washing your clothes in Slim Fast. Maybe it would take a few inches off of your butt!’

His wife was not amused, and decided that she simply couldn’t let such a comment go unpunished. The next morning the husband took a pair of underwear out of his drawer. ‘What’s this??’ he said to himself as a little ‘dust’ cloud appeared when he shook them out. ‘April,’ he hollered into the bathroom, ‘why did you put talcum powder in my underwear?’

She replied, ‘It’s not talcum powder……It’s ‘Miracle Grow.’

An old man lived alone in New Jersey. He wanted to plant his annual tomato garden, but it was very difficult work, as the ground was hard. His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:

Dear Vincent, I am feeling pretty sad, because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would be happy to dig the plot for me, like in the old days. Love, Papa

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Pop, Don’t dig up that garden. That’s where the bodies are buried. Love, Vinnie

At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Pop, Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That’s the best I could do under the circumstances. Love you, Vinnie

Two sisters – Bubbles and Barbie – had promised their seafaring Uncle to bury him at sea. In due time, he did pass away and the two blondes were determined to keep their promise. They set off from the beach with their uncle all stitched up in a burial bag and loaded onto their rowboat.

After a while Bubbles says, ‘Do you think we’re out far enough, Barbie?’ Barbie slipped over the side and finding the water only knee deep said, ‘nope, not yet Bubbles’. So they rowed out a little farther….

Again Bubbles asks Barbie, ‘Do you think we’re out far enough now?’ Once again Barbie slips over the side and almost immediately says, ‘No, this will never do, the water is only up to my chest. ‘

So on they row and row and row, and finally Barbie slips over the side and disappears. Quite a bit of time goes by and poor Bubbles is really getting worried when suddenly Barbie breaks the surface gasping for breath.

‘Well is it deep enough yet, Sis?’ ‘Yes, finally. Hand me the shovel.’

A nice, calm and respectable lady went into the pharmacy, walked up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his eyes, and said, ‘I would like to buy some cyanide.’

The pharmacist asked, ‘Why in the world do you need cyanide?’

The lady replied, ‘I need it to poison my husband.’

The pharmacist’s eyes got big and he exclaimed, ‘Lord have mercy! I can’t give you cyanide to kill your husband. That’s against the law! I’ll lose my license! They’ll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of
bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!’

The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist’s wife. The pharmacist looked at the picture and replied, ‘Well now, that’s different. You didn’t tell me you had a prescription.’

A little boy goes to his father and asks ‘Daddy, how was I born?’

The father answers, ‘Well, son, I guess one day you will need to find out anyway! Your Mom and I first got together in a chat room on Yahoo. Then I set up a date via e-mail with your Mom and we met at a cyber-cafe. We sneaked into a secluded room, where your mother agreed to a download from my hard drive. As soon as I was ready to upload, we discovered that neither one of us had used a firewall, and since it was too late to hit the delete button, nine months later a little Pop-Up appeared that said:

‘You got Male!’

A husband wrote the following letter for his wife and left it on the dining room table:

‘To My Dear Wife. You will surely understand that I have certain needs that you, being 54 years old, can no longer satisfy. I am very happy with you and I value you as a good wife. Therefore, after reading this letter, I hope that you will not wrongly interpret the fact that I will be spending the evening with my 18 year old secretary at the Comfort Inn Hotel. Please don’t be upset – I shall be home before midnight.’

When the man came home late that night, he found the following letter on the dining room table:

‘My Dear Husband. I received your letter and thank you for your honesty about my being 54 years old. I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that you are also 54 years old. As you know, I am a math teacher at our local college. I would like to inform you that while you read this, I will be at the Marriott Hotel with Michael, one of my students. He is young, virile, and like your secretary,18 years old.

As a successful businessman who has an excellent knowledge of math, you will understand that although it may appear that we are in the same situation, there is one mathematical difference:

18 goes into 54 a lot more times than 54 goes into 18.

Therefore, I will not be home until sometime tomorrow.

One night, after the couple had retired for the night, the woman became aware that her husband was touching her in a most unusual manner. He started by running his hand across her shoulders and the small of her back. He ran his hand over her breasts, touching them very lightly. Then, he proceeded to run his hand gently down her side, sliding his hand over her stomach, and then down the other side to a point below her waist. He continued on, gently feeling her hips, first one side and the other. His hand ran further down the outside of her thighs. His gentle probing then started up the inside of her left thigh, stopped and the returned to do the same to her right thigh.

By this time the woman was becoming aroused and she squirmed a little to better position herself.

The man stopped abruptly and rolled over to his side of the bed.

Why are you stopping darling?’ she whispered.

He whispered back, ‘ I found the remote.’

On their way to a justice of the peace to get married, a couple has a fatal car accident. The couple is sitting outside heavens gate waiting on St. Peter to do the paperwork so they can enter. While waiting, they wonder if they could possibly get married in heaven.

St. Peter finally shows up and they ask him. St. Peter says, “I don’t know, this is the first time anyone has ever asked. Let me go find out,” and he leaves.

The couple sit for a couple of months and begin to wonder if they really should get married in Heaven, what with the eternal aspect of it all. “What if it doesn’t work out?” they wonder. “Are we stuck together forever?”

St. Peter returns after yet another month, looking somewhat bedraggled. “Yes,” he informs the couple, “you can get married in Heaven.”

“Great,” says the couple, “but what if things don’t work out? Could we also get a divorce in Heaven?”

St. Peter, red-faced, slams his clipboard onto the ground. “What’s wrong?” exclaims the frightened
couple.

“Good Grief!” St. Peter exclaims, “It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you have ANY idea how long it’s going to take for me to find a lawyer?”

Through a Glass Darkly….

STORY OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN

A Sunday school teacher was telling her class the story of the Good Samaritan, in which a man was beaten, robbed and left for dead. She described the situation in vivid detail so her students would catch the drama. Then, she asked the class, “If you saw a person lying on the roadside, all wounded and bleeding, what would you do?”

A thoughtful little girl broke the hushed silence, “I think I’d throw up.”

STORY OF ELIJAH

The Sunday school teacher was carefully explaining the story of Elijah the Prophet and the false prophets of Baal. She explained how Elijah built the altar, put wood upon it, cut the steer in pieces, and laid it upon the altar. And then, Elijah commanded the people of God to fill four barrels of water and pour it over the altar. He had them do this four times.

“Now,” said the teacher! , “can anyone in the class tell me why the Lord would have Elijah pour water over the steer on the altar?”

A little girl in the back of the room started waving her hand, “I know, I know,” she said, “to make the gravy!”

LOT’S WIFE

The Sunday School teacher was describing how Lot’s wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt, when little Johnny interrupted, “My Mummy looked back once, while she was DRIVING,” he announced triumphantly, “and she turned into a telephone pole!”

HIGHER POWER

A Sunday school teacher said to her children, “We have been learning how powerful kings and queens were in Bible times. But, there is a higher power. Can anybody tell me what it is?”

One child blurted out, “Aces!”

SUNDAY SCHOOL

Nine year old Joey was asked by his mother what he had learned in Sunday school. “Well, Mom, our teacher told us how God sent Moses behind enemy lines on a rescue mission to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. When he got to the Red Sea, he had his engineers build a pontoon bridge and all the people walked across safely. Then, he used his walkie-talkie to radio headquarters for reinforcements. They sent bombers to blow up the bridge and all the Israelites were saved.”

“Now, Joey, is that really what your teacher taught you?” his mother asked.

“Well, no, Mom. But, if I told it the way the teacher did, you’d never believe it!”

POOR LION

A Sunday school teacher was telling the youngsters about Daniel and the Lions’ Den. She had a picture of Daniel standing, brave and confident, with a group of lions around him. One little girl started to cry. The teacher said, “Don’t cry. The lions are not going to eat Daniel.”

The little girl said, “That’s not what I’m crying about. That little lion, over in the corner, isn’t going to get any food.”

How dare you try to amend our Constitution to discriminate against any American citizen? How dare you appeal to hate? How dare you use God for this!

This is so low, so hypocritical. You won’t dabate Iraq, but you WILL debate this?

Is this what you have left to say about “compassionate conservatism”? You’ve let pseudo-christian dominionists (otherwise known as supremacists) gain too much power in our process because you think hate will motivate enough votes that the rigged elections can be rationalized.

These people want to bring back stoning! In America! They are wayyy too concerned with how to control other people. It won’t stop with this – gays aren’t the only people they hate. They want to put women “back in the box” as well, and they are training the children just like little Hitler youth with their home-schooling programs. Some even speak of a return to slavery.

But that’s not even what it’s about, is it? Because in addition to payback to the terrorist christian right – remember these are the people who incited to murder, bombed clinics, etc – this is really about something else.

It’s about insurance. You want to nip that “alternative family insurance” movement in the bud. You know, at the behest of the people who wrote the laws for the prescription drug “benefit”? It wouldn’t look good to talk about poor grandma raising her grandchildren, or the single moms or dads doing the best the can. Noooooo….you have to find that bigotry that remains, and work it, baby, work it.

Meanwhile, the dollar seems (to me at least) ready to plummet, Iraq is a disaster, Iran is about to become a disaster, Halliburton and ExxonMobil walk off with our money, and you don’t think there are any monuments in New York so you’re cutting homeland security funds. People are dying, people are hurting. There are parts of America that are as poor as any third-world nation, but you’re in bed with crony corporatists (when you don’t have prostitutes or long-term buddies from college to sleep with and promote).

You want to lecture us about morality? You want to use our own constitution for power, for hate? You have profoundly misunderstood the nature of this country. This country belongs to WE THE PEOPLE.

You’ve handed power to the executive branch. You’ve destroyed our country. You’ve taken our future. Keep going, and you’ll be showing up for photo ops in your hoods or uniforms or whatever.

The Nazis had their scapegoats too.
Shame on you. Shame on you. Shame on you.

You fundamentalists have lost
the thing most fundamental.
Pharasees again, in code
have lost or burned the message.
You fanatics worship manmade creeds
that will undo us all
And YOU, you terrorists of all religions
your gods will make us fall.

Yes I confess this deep deep flaw,
this remnant of rigidity,
scar-tissue of self-righteousness,
torn open yet again.
Yet one must speak from where one stands
and this is what I know,
I have no room left in my heart
for love toward you to grow.

The evil that your “god” incites
in you and o’er the world,
stains for all time our histories,
we all pay for your sins.
I guard compassion jealously
held selfish in reserve
for the ones you hurt so deeply
and whose stories aren’t heard.

I name you and yours false prophets
because you do define the phrase,
you lead the would-be faithful
always far and further astray.
Placing demon masks
on the faces of our kin,
undoing all the fragile good
that lets us breathe again.

Congress.org scored and weighted 289 variables in 15 categories to determine a ranking of the most powerful or effective Members of Congress.

See Power Rankings by State, Chamber, Party, Committee, Class/Tenure, Position, Influence, Legislation.

Don’t write discrimination into the Constitution.
The measure was put forward by Rep. Rep. Dan Lungren (R-Calif.) only days after a judge in San Francisco declared that barring gay marriage violated the California state constitution. Right-wing leaders’ have used the supposed threat to marriage to energize political involvement by appealing to the worst within their own membership. Trying to use our constitution to demonize fellow Americans is contrary to the spirit of the entire document, and if passed, would mark the first time the Constitution was amended to target a group of Americans for unequal treatment.

Dominionism = Supremacism
We are not Nazis. We are not the Klan.
We cannot allow hate and irrational fears to overtake our country.

E-mail your senators to register your opposition to the discriminatory ‘Marriage Protection Amendment.’
(People for the American Way)

No Nuclear Attack on Iran

Rep. Ed Markey (D-MA) has circulated a letter in an effort to get the Bush Administration to take the nuclear option off the table. This letter, which he is asking members of Congress to sign, reminds the President of the USA of the US commitment under the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty that the US, “will not use nuclear weapons against non-nuclear-weapon States Parties to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons except in the case of an invasion or any other attack on the United States” or its allies.

Please ask your Representative to sign on to the Markey letter to the Administration.

While we understand the desire to take nothing off of the table during the run-up to what we hope are negotiations, there are some things that must never be put on the table to begin with. Nuclear weapons must not be used in Iran. Their use, or even the threat of use, would undermine America’s non-proliferation leadership, inflame anti-American extremism around the world, and undermine smart, effective problem solving by our elected and appointed leaders. We need a long term solution that lowers the dangers in Iran, rather than an attack that will convince the 182 non-nuclear signatories to the Non-Proliferation Treaty that their continued adherence to the treaty offers them no protection against a nuclear attack by a nuclear nation.

(20/20 Vision

“What Is a Progressive?” – 10 Finalists – Vote Today

If you met someone who didn’t know what a progressive was, which one would help that person best to “get it”? Please vote among the ten finalists at Campaign for America’s Future by Friday, June 2nd at 11:59 EDT. (While you’re there, register for the Take Back America 2006 conference.
(Campaign for America’s Future)

Protect Medical Victims’ Rights – People are First, Profits are Second

For the third time in the last two years President Bush and leaders in the House of Representatives are promoting a bill written by the insurance industry and HMOs (yet again) without regard for the rights of working Americans injured – or even killed – by medical malpractice in hospitals or nursing homes. The bill may even allow drug companies who put dangerous products on the market to avoid accountability. Fight against this legislation, which is overtly designed to tilt the playing field in favor of powerful corporate interests.

Sign a petition urging your Representative to oppose any legislation restricting the rights of those injured by medical malpractice.
(People Over Profits Grassroots Action Center)

The Balancing Act – Paid Leave for New Parents

When you think of “family values” – think of this. The United States is one of only four out of 168 countries studied to not have some form of paid family leave for new moms. We join Swaziland, Papua New Guinea, and Lesotho in not having that policy in place. Nearly 75% of moms are in the workforce, and most families need two working parents to stay afloat. It’s time for our policies and programs to catch up with our modern economy. Yes, with Republicans in power, the chances of success are pretty small. Still worth an effort.

Sign a petition to support the The Balancing Act bill, which includes paid leave for all new parents.
(Moms Rising)

We’re not Buyin’ it – Protest ExxonMobil

Today hundreds of activists are in Dallas, TX attending ExxonMobil’s annual meeting to protest the corporation’s use of our money to fund their active opposition to any development of clean energy solutions for America. In solidarity with these activists, I am writing my representatives in Congress (such as they are) to reject any bill that offers even more giveaways to ExxonMobil (either through even more tax breaks or even more invasive drilling). ExxonMobil uses their obscenely excessive profits to fund professional global warming “skeptics” and refuses to invest in renewable energy sources. It’s time for Congress to adopt REAL energy solutions that reduce global warming pollution, enhance our energy security, and save consumers money – you know, while we still have the lights on to plan.

Protest ExxonMobil’s Slash and Burn Planning
(Union of Concerned Scientists and Save Our Environment)

Online NewsHour: South Dakota Bans Most Types Of Abortion — March 3, 2006

BILL NAPOLI: When I was growing up here in the wild west, if a young man got a girl pregnant out of wedlock, they got married, and the whole darned neighborhood was involved in that wedding. I mean, you just didn’t allow that sort of thing to happen, you know? I mean, they wanted that child to be brought up in a home with two parents, you know, that whole story. And so I happen to believe that can happen again.

FRED DE SAM LAZARO: You really do?

BILL NAPOLI: Yes, I do. I don’t think we’re so far beyond that, that we can’t go back to that.

Sounds almost sweet, huh? Like the "wild west" reference, which frames the whole thing. In the actual "wild west," women didn’t do very well… Of course, the west wasn’t "wild" when this guy was growing up.

Under what circumstances would Mr. Napoli concede that a woman (or her community) might be allowed to consider abortion? Rape or incest? um… well…. actually….even those cases would have to come under "danger to life of the mother."

A real-life description to me would be a rape victim, brutally raped, savaged. The girl was a virgin. She was religious. She planned on saving her virginity until she was married. She was brutalized and raped, sodomized as bad as you can possibly make it, and is impregnated. I mean, that girl could be so messed up, physically and psychologically, that carrying that child could very well threaten her life.

The case he allowed that might actually "endanger the woman’s life" would be if she were a religious virgin saving herself for marriage" and she was not only brutally raped but also sodomized (because she was sodomized? Does he need some basic sex ed on how pregnancy occurs?). Note that just being a virgin isn’t enough, and that he assumes virginity isn’t actually a choice made in full knowledge and self-value, but only in "religious" conviction (or more likely, quasi-religious pressure).

Note also that the ideal situation is where the community makes the decision for the people involved – both that the woman will carry to term and that the two will marry. What a great basis for commitment – an unwanted, unplanned pregnancy. Maybe we should hear some autobiographies from people who had marriages with that auspicious beginning. I can’t think of many men who would welcome a return of the shotgun wedding either. Oh, and should uncle or brother daddy marry the one they "savage"?

His delivery was shocking. It was almost as if the thought of the brutalization of the woman – oh wait, he said "girl" – was a turn-on for him. The last sentence was a bit of an afterthought. Here is a man who clearly views women as property to be controlled and dominated (and even protected – as property). How is he that much different than the rapist he cites?

In any case, "danger to the life of the mother" is usually interpreted in quite narrow terms – that carrying to term might well result in the literal death of the mother – such as with an ectopic pregnancy or other medical conditions.

Is it virgin sodomy that makes all the difference for him? Is a woman who isn’t a virgin less traumatized by rape or incest? Is it all about the qualities of the rapist – the brutalizing, sodomizing defiler of religious virgins? Is it enough to be an anal virgin? (Actually, anal and oral intercourse are on the rise among the "no-sex" pledgers. Hope they don’t catch a disease while they’re trying not to get pregnant without birth control.)

Watch for other moves back to the "good old days" too. For people who are so against abortion, they are oddly and ferociously opposed to the proven factors of reducing the number of abortions: birth control, sex education, women’s education and training, equality, and freedom of opportunity. What next? Barring women from the vote or from owning property? Will American women be disallowed from wearing miniskirts, working outside the home, going to college, driving a car?

Fundamentalist sexism and domination of women looks very similar to me across religions. It’s about the same thing as rape – it’s about power, it’s about controlling and dominating women into a semi-subhuman status. Watch what happens to those women in those communities when they don’t have the abortion. See how friendly their neighbors are to a single woman with a child, or to a struggling family with five. Shall we bring back the good old witchcraft charges too?

In a way, I understand. Some people don’t want to have to face reality. There is so much change, and they don’t know where or how they will fit. It’s clear that many of us will be sacrificed to the Mammon, the "god of money." There is meth addiction, there is crime, there is disrespect to "elders" – surely it feels like apocalypse approacheth. It’s strange that they refuse to look at economic factors – but it’s clear that our children and grandchildren will live in a very different world. My generation is the first that has not (on the whole) done as well as our parents did. So some of us can’t actually face the world we live in – we’ve had it relatively easy and some have an irrational assumption that the world owes us something whether or not we’ve earned it or deserve it (shall we call it the W syndrome?). We pretend that there is no poverty while it’s actually increasing, that all parents must by definition be wonderful people, that kin don’t rape or otherwise hurt one another, that everyone who is the least bit different from our comfort group must be evil, that people who do their own thinking and make their own ethical choices are a threat to those who simply submit to authority (hoping they will be spared?). Some people can’t even really understand that there are other countries or people different than the "folks" on our street – most Americans only speak one language. Of course our own "group" has its problems as well, but if we are not directly affected we tend to ignore that as much as possible. We want to protect our kith and kin and we like to hide in the safe comfort of our folk mythologies.

But these are childish reactions, and they bring out very bad things in us. They bring out the very things that every prophet warns against. America is living in a very thin veil of self-induced hallucinations. Part of the "good old days" mythology has to do with dominating women – oh, and killing Indians in the "Wild West." Violence against immigrants, especially Mexicans, is on the rise.

A religious response would have to listen compassionately to narratives of actual, truthful experience (as you would have your God hear you) before proposing solutions or making judgments. These politicians don’t do that very much – and neither do many of their constituents. Listen to the stories of the women who are desperate enough to abort their pregnancies that they travel hundreds of miles to the only clinic in the state to get it done. Listen to the circumstances by which a woman decides to end a pregnancy – it is no easy thing to decide. The stories are often heartbreaking. There are women who have had abortions and regretted it deeply – this is true. There are women who have not, and paid dearly.

This issue is a handy tool to drive people apart because abortion is a very controversial and difficult topic. Ultimately, though, it is not the job of the government to mandate a woman’s reproductive life. Such decisions have to reside with the woman, with her God (if she is a believer) and in consultation with her doctor.

Maybe that’s the beef – that finally there is a matter in which a woman has the final say-so. How threatening to the fragile male ego.

Roe v. Wade was the compromise. If your daughter or your sister or your mother or your friend were in a position where abortion had to be contemplated, you might think differently. Or maybe not – maybe you’re in that group who wants to turn America into a theocracy – complete with stoning?

Added March 4th: Mark Morford’s reaction to all this is much more strident – and witty. Read "S. Dakota Slaps Up Its Women: Another state you should never visit passes an appalling abortion ban, because they hate you"

The first night, we all met for dinner. We spent some time with the remaining sibling (my sister-in-law) Laura and John (who had dropped a good bit of weight since the last time I saw him). We also got to spend a little time with (my brother-in-law’s sister) Marsha and Randy. I remember them quite fondly, especially because of a rollicking dinner we had once at their place. Randy has a twirly waxed mustache, and Marsha has a beautiful warm face, and they are both wonderful charming people. She works for the Forestry Service, and is especially charged when things actually get accomplished there despite whatever political agendas happen to be on the table. It’s always a good time when they are involved.

We had a drink or two while waiting for the table. From the balcony where we finally settled in we could hear some kind of jazz performance taking place in downtown (or is it uptown?) Tallahassee. The atmosphere was invigorating, carefree.

We arrived at the wedding rehearsal the next afternoon a few minutes late. Feeling foolish, we anxiously wandered all over the grounds looking for where it was supposed to take place. Finally we ran into Laura and she didn’t know where it was either! Finally we met up with the others and convened under a huge live oak – rehearsal went well and the bride-to-be was incredibly poised – and on high heels! Ben solemnly practiced his ringbearing duties. As we were leaving, people were getting set up in the next field to watch Glenn Campbell play. Yes. Glenn Campbell. Just as we were passing a man that Laura thought might actually have been him, I happened to be saying, “Well, he’s no Johnny Cash, but…” Faux pas of the day, my turn.

I got a chance there to talk a little bit with Lance, my other nephew and the younger brother of the groom. I’ve had a soft spot for him since we first met, because I was charmed by his desire to sing (and play his guitar) and the way that longing was tempered by a very real shyness. The result was that he sang Eric Clapton songs to me in an almost impossibly soft voice. He’s always been curious about a lot of difficult questions concerning life, the universe, and everything. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so taken aback to hear that he has become religious. He’s become part of a fellowship that meets in homes – pentacostal, healing, anti-trinitarian. We traded some bible verses and doctrinal perspectives. His eyes were bright with the unmistakable spirit of the newly converted. I tried to ascertain where along the spectrum (from “compassionate believers gathered in a spirit of love” to “time to drink the Cool-aid”) this group might fall. He had personally invested in boxes of bibles to send to New Orleans – no fundraiser, no distribution network. He also mentioned that he dropped a course in New Testament when the professor introduced the “Q source” (within the realm of possible biblical scholarship, a fairly innocuous bit of critical text research) that he felt was too challenging to his faith. There were a couple of other red flags for me as well, but I was very comfortable talking to him and look forward to some deeper, more lengthy discussion. I care about him, and I hope it will all turn out all right.

On the day of the wedding, I looked fabulous, even if I do say so myself. John had gotten me a gorgeous burgundy floor-length dress and I felt smashing. I think he had become nervous in reaction to my joking comment that I was planning to attend the plantation wedding in a hooped flowered dress and a hat.

It was my job to pin the flowers on all the guys, including the groom. I managed to do it without puncturing their chests or my fingers and none of the flowers stuck out funny or fell off. Accomplishment!

I did have a weird moment of cognitive dissonance when JT’s (black) professional colleague arrived with his (also black) wife. They were “ooh-ing” and “aah-ing” about how gorgeous the plantation was. Um. Well. Suddenly I felt so strange to be walking around on the grounds of a plantation. It’s a historial site. It’s quite beautiful. Still, for a moment, I was in the twilight zone.

JT and Tonya had a sweet ceremony under the oak tree. It was a little full of talk about God’s will, but that’s probably just my JW scar tissue talking. They had written secret letters to one another, which were read by the best man and the maid of honor (matron, really, but she still looked like a maid). There were moments here and there when they each had suspiciously glistening eyes, and I lost it for a moment myself. Ben was given a little bird’s nest for carrying the rings (excellent idea!), which I’m saving to give back on their tenth anniversary.

After the ceremony, we all walked over to the courtyard at the stables, where a band had already set up, and drinks were served. Ben (age 5) garnered an admirer named Elizabeth (age 6), who wanted him to dance with her and visit with the Clysdale horses (My stepson Evan claimed that he – himself, not Ben- had actually hopped the fence and rode one of them). Ben and Elizabeth spent much of the night running around the place together. They taught each other their best dance moves. She had the biggest, most adoring brown eyes I have ever seen. It was outstandingly cute.

I shared some back and forth banter with my beloved “political nemesis” brother-in-law John. He didn’t call me a feminazi this time.. only a socialist. He informed me that not only did I take myself too seriously, but that I was on the wrong side of history. In his opinion, what we really need in this country is a dictator. Sure, and that’s an American value. A benevolent reading would be that sometimes he exaggerates to push my buttons. We’re never going to agree on anything political, but I told him I loved him anyway (”not fair!” he charged as he wagged his finger at me). I can’t help it. As frustrating and unreachable as he is, I think he is an interesting guy. I’m always trying to figure out how this could have happened to him. He says his alliance was formed when JFK was shot, but that doesn’t make any sense to me. He is someone that really ought to be able to connect the dots to understand the ways in which he and his family (not to mention countless others) have been shafted by the right. But he doesn’t see it. He’s too invested in counting himself in with what he perceives to be the “winning side,” whether or not he is actually the sort of person in whose interests the “winners” ever act. Anyway, I think he’s one of the very few far far right wing people that I actually care about and with whom I can converse – and who tolerates me (to varying degrees) as well.

JT wrote and performed a song to his bride. How many weddings have you gone to where the groom pulls out an electric guitar and performs for the first time in public?

We all danced. The band introduced “I Will Survive” as a song for the WOMEN! That made me laugh because my associations have more to do with gay parades I’ve walked in, but I guess that’s what you say that close to “Jeb country.” Why would you play a song about continuing on after a bad breakup at a wedding reception anyway? At least they didn’t play “Paradise By the Dashboard Light.”

It ended with a loud hoot ‘n holler parade around the courtyard – a New Orleans style send-off. They had gotten engaged in New Orleans, and had recently provided a place to stay for friends of theirs who lost everything there. New Orleans is a special place to the bride and groom for a number of reasons, and somehow that seemed exactly the right kind of conclusion.

We wish them a life together of laughter and love.

(Oh, for my friends at Blogazoo, here’s a gAzoo)