Tag Archives: Saint Louis

Same-Sex Marriage Coming Out

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When the Train Leaves the Station, Are You Onboard?

It has been kind of a blur today, but here goes nothing. I’m a latte-drinking, Prius-driving, NPR-listening liberal. So, it would not be a major leap of imagination to surmise that I support President Obama. This would include today’s announcement, where he stated that “same-sex marriage should be legal”. This statement was a long time coming. The fact that it was made was no surprise, but its timing was. I did not expect it until after the election. It was foreshadowed last week, when Vice-President Biden came out in favor of same-sex marriage. Tossed-off at the time as another Biden gaff, it might have been a trial balloon instead. Anyway, today Obama doubled-down on the issue.

Whatever, the nuances of Obama’s position is, mine is that the legal definition should be broadened to include a marriage contract between any two consenting adults. The benefits and responsibilities of marriage should be available, without regard to sex. Not doing so is discriminatory. I also feel that any lesser forms of marriage, like domestic partnerships, are as fair as separate but equal was. Fundamentally, this is a civil rights issue.

Others might protest that homosexuality is an affront to God. It is written in the Bible. It is written. I should strike this paragraph, because I don’t want to invite an argument with the religious right, it is a waste of my time and theirs. I simply want to acknowledge their differing beliefs. They are entitled to their beliefs. Their beliefs are enshrined in the Constitution, as are mine. Pray for me, if you think it helps.

I believe that my dear departed mother was way out ahead of me on this. Back as far as the early ‘80, she studied, and socialized with gay men. When the AIDS epidemic erupted, she also mourned for and with her friends. I never discussed the issue of same-sex marriage with her, but she always believed in gay rights, so connect the dots.

The ‘Fortune 100’ corporation that I work for offers same-sex dependent benefits. It also prohibits discrimination based upon sexual preference. Both of these policies are to its credit. Between my mom and my employer, my coming out in support for equal rights for gay people, is almost as overdue as the president’s. Well, better late then never.

Single Black Sock Seeks Same

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Single Socks

According to Hallmark’s National (fill-in-the-blank) Day calendar, in addition to being National Butterscotch Brownie Day, tomorrow is also a memorial day. [Before I go any further, do brownies really need more than one national recognition day?] Yes, I know that Memorial Day does not occur until the last Monday in May. Tomorrow is not THE Memorial Day, but rather National Lost Sock Memorial Day. According to Hallmark, socks have a tendency to lose their mates, resulting in whole drawers full of “sad singles”. Do you think that this memorial day is really just a sock puppet for selling more romantic cards?

Missing socks are a recurring theme as of late. Last month, I tinfoil hat hypothesised several conspiracy theories about disappearing socks, under the blog post, Sock Nest Monster. As crazy as those theories may sound, it doesn’t seem to matter how hard you try to keep track of them, one will get sucked into the vortex that opens up in the spin cycle.

Maybe though, thoughts of alien abductions is barking up the wrong tree. Maybe socks are like people. After a few years or a few laundry cycles, which ever comes first, a member of a seemingly inseparable couple just splits. Couples therapy is difficult enough, even when you can get both halves in the same room. It is impossible, when one-half has disappeared and can’t be located. Part of the problem with losing socks, is the just not knowing. Is it something that I did? Is it nestled warmly in some sleeve? Did it get sucked down the drain?

There is something forlorn about the jilted sock, the survivor of the twosome. This is especially true, when a venerable pair comes up short. Frequently, the remaining half looks a bit threadbare and worn. One is tempted to pitch the bird in the hand, but rather than risk a Romeo and Juliet ending, it inevitably gets tossed into the sock drawer. Eventually they’ll get reunited, whether in this world or the next.

To combat this syndrome sock manufacturers have provided and consumers have responded favorably to multi-pair sock-packs of identical socks. This strategy only postpones the inevitable day of reckoning. One-by-one like the characters in Agatha Christy’s “Ten Little Indians”, this identical gene pool is whittled down. Maybe you don’t notice the diminution until say, packing for a trip. Maybe after you are left with a third wheel. Eventually, there will be only one.

Rather than organizing them in a dresser drawer that substitutes for some sort of Club Med for mismatched singles, why not step outside of your hosiery comfort zone. Try wearing closely matching socks, or better yet, go bold, make a statement, with two wildly mismatched socks. So tomorrow, as you look over all the solo socks you’ve been hanging on to for all these years, pay your respects to the ones you’ve loved and lost, but also look at what remains. You can always say that you got dressed in the dark.

Dice in the Pacific

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Victory In The Pacific

No Anne, Dice at Sea is different from Dice in the Pacific. One takes place in the Atlantic and the other the Pacific. Besides, Dice in the Pacific is part of a college curriculum, or so Siri tells me. Bob and I have played this game so many times that we can almost play it in our minds:

“I’m one task force looking for you.”
“I’m one task force looking and one hiding.”
“I find your lookers and your hiders.”
“I don’t find you.”
“I call day.”
“I call night.”
“It is day then night.”

We can riff like this all night long. After all, we’ve done it for almost thirty years. These mind games do tend to go off the rails, when we start to air guitar the actual dice throws.

I mentioned that Dice has been incorporated into a curriculum. It is viewed as a useful teaching aid on the history of World War II in the Pacific. As this genre of strategy games goes, it is relatively simple. A typical game only lasts a few hours, as opposed to weeks. In the vernacular, it is a so-called beer and chips game. [Note the beer bottles] As simple as it is, it is also quite an elegant simulation of the high stakes gambling that carrier warfare was in the Pacific.

All of the major carrier battles turned on fate, or luck. There are so many what ifs that could have turned the course of history. What if instead of you seeing me first, I saw you? This is abstracted by me rolling a one and you a six. Yes luck is a factor, both in the game and in the real life that it attempts to model. The game actually does an amazingly accurate recreation of real life events. It is just that finely tuned. Bob and I have played this game so many times that we have effectively overlaid a Monte Carlos simulation over the original game.  

I guess that explains why Bob almost always wins. You see Bob always plays the Allies and I always play the Japanese. And as any student of history can tell you, the Allies won. Dice wouldn’t be a very good simulation if the Japanese won, even once in like the last ten years, now would it? Over the years, I have toyed with the idea of switching sides and playing the Americans, but that would be like crossing the streams. No, it is safer to just stay with the status quo.

I’m not one to monkey with the course of history. Who knows how things might turnout otherwise? Bob will be here this one night only, but I’ll be here all week folks.

Wonder Woman

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1941 Cadillac Fleetwood Sixty Special Hood Ornament

In movie theaters around the country this weekend, super heroes prowl the aisles. “The Avengers” opened on Friday, to meh reviews, but one need not resort to comic book heroes, because there are real life heroes. I submit for your consideration, one my heroes, Anne. As action heroes go, she is not endowed with any of the usual super powers. Winged woman aside, Anne cannot fly, well, except on Southwest. Even then her airplane is not invisible, but bright orange. She doesn’t have Superman’s X-ray vision, but after almost ten years of teaching, she does have something akin to Wonder Woman’s truth finding powers. Anne doesn’t need to use any of Wonder Woman’s kinky bondage schtick though, no lasso or whip for her. Plus, she is wicked smart. Do you know that she counted to infinity, twice? ;-)

Anne and I spent the day bicycling the trails of Madison County. After yesterday’s too hot city ride, we thought that getting out into the country would be the ticket. It was a lot cooler there and not having to stop at a million red lights, kept the breeze flowing. We chose a fairly shady course, which helped. In Edwardsville, we stopped at Annie’s Frozen Custard. We each had the Lemony Snicket. They were great and very lemony, but maybe sharing one would have been better? 

On the way back, Anne had a close call, when through a momentary lapse of attention she rode off the bike trail. The trails are paved asphalt, but they still sit upon the old bermed railroad bed. When she departed from the pavement, she got caught up in the gravel, but managed to keep the bike upright. A mile later a deer bounded across the trail, just in front of us. Oh, dear! We got 27 miles.

Tonight, we’ll go out for dinner. A nice romantic dinner for two, at Cyrano’s, in Webster. Oh, I almost forgot to mention this, Happy Birthday, Anne!

Art by Day, Magic by Night

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Bob, Nink, Meghan and Andrew arrived in Saint Louis on Friday. All, long time friends and former Saint Louis residents, they blew into town for two reasons. They are attending a wedding in Branson and their son Andrew received an award from his alma Mater, Fontbonne. Nink met Professor Mary, our fellow Team Kaldi’s teammate. Andrew is now a doctoral candidate in Applied Sociology at Yale. Friday night, we all went to Ted Drewes, a Saint Louis tradition. It was a warm and sultry night. In the morning, we sent them on their way to Branson.

Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Red in the face and all covered with sweat-ie.

It was actually more like the butt-crack of noon before they departed. By then last night’s sultry had turned to down right surly weather. We rolled the bikes through the climate control airlock and entered the soup that passes for the atmosphere around here. Our modest goal, was Left Bank Books, just across the park from us, in the CWE. While winding down Wydown, I had an epiphany for today’s blog post: Check out the progress on preparations for the Lantern Festival, at the botanical gardens. It opens later this month. We’ll have to wait until then to see the magic.

So, we diverted to the gardens and photographed the new lanterns. These are elaborate outdoor sets crafted mainly of silk and steel. They celebrate Chinese culture through bold color, dazzling light and striking design. At this point it is still a work in progress. The gold dragon at the entrance is finished and I think, illuminated at night. The centerpiece of the show, what I’ve dubbed the Porcelain Dragons, is only half-finished. It is skinned with real porcelain plates, cups and spoons. They are all ornately tied together with string. This fiber artwork is repeated with precision throughout.

The show doesn’t officially open for another two weeks. It will run all summer. It just so happens that Dave departs for Hong Kong in about a week. I look forward to hearing about his trip. This is developing into a China-centric year.

Left Bank Books didn’t have Anne’s book, but she did buy a card. I will buy her books on Amazon tonight. I can hear the hissing from certain quarters, but the bad news is that publishing is dead. The good news though is that the written word is doing fine. [this blog aside] I’ve finally signed up for Amazon Prime, primarily for the online video service, but I also get free shipping. How long will that last?

We next stopped at FroYo, the home of premium frozen yogurt. Oh, come on, it was hot out. The business model is cafeteria style. You create your own frozen yogurt creation and it gets priced by the pound. I mean by the ounce. We ran into Kubie at the Forsyth entrance to the park. It just so happens that she had launched at about the same time that we did. She actually rode all of those four hours, while we played. We got a measly 15 miles, but better than none.

Super Maroon

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Tomorrow night, is the night of the super moon. This full moon is the biggest, 14% larger than normal and the brightest, 30% brighter, of the year. This is because it is at the moon’s closest approach to earth for the year. The following photo was taken yesterday, two days before full.

Super Moon

While this post is ostensibly all about astronomy, it is really all about the good doctor, Gerry. He prefers to be called Gerald, but I am old and set in my ways and have always called him Gerry. Gerry sounds cooler than Gerald and Gerry really is cool. Besides, the only other Michigan grad named Gerald that I know, was also named Ford.

Gerry happens to play in a band named Super Maroon. Originally, they were going to go with Super Moon, but too many other bands had already adopted that name, including one in Alton. Hence the name Super Maroon. Physicist by day, Rocker at night, it is quite the combination.

Midwest at Night

The above photograph is a NASA picture, taken from the International Space Station (ISS). Taken on a crystal clear night,it shows the American northern Midwest. Above and behind the Midwest is the Aurora Borealis and a portion of the ISS. You might think of this as the moon’s view of us.

Strawberry Fields forever

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Strawberry Fields forever

I’ve unearthed this photograph from the deepest depths of our photo archives. Anne protested my plans to publish it, but I feel that it is far enough back in the historical record that it is in at least my domain, public. I may subsequently rue this decision. She is obviously posing for the photo. She has a smile, more of a toothy grin, on her face. Her squinty eyes seem to belie any happiness. Look to her headdress though. It is a knotted handkerchief, probably once water-soaked for cooling. Ripe strawberries speak of warm summer months here in Missouri. Anne being a Michigan girl has never taken to Missouri’s summer heat. My question though is who are those people on the right. Is that Bob, orange shirted in the background? I think that is Noreen to Anne’s left. Anyway, it is a nice butt shot. ;-)

Bob, Nink, Anne and I once conspired to recreate what was already then a meme. Not an Internet meme mind you, because back then the Internet was not even a twinkle in Al Gore’s eye. Bob and Nink had received as a holiday gift a pasta maker. This led to pasta making and pasta eating. This being the Reagan era supply side economy, we quickly ended up with more pasta then we could eat. Our solution was the pasta tree. One Saturday morning, we recreated the mythical Italian pasta harvest. Anne dressed for type as an Italian peasant and posed seemingly plucking whole or at least whole wheat pasta strands from an otherwise bare branched tree.

Bob and Nink are old friends in every sense of that measure. Sorry, Bob, sorry, Nink, but it is true. This weekend, they plan two touch and go stops that maybe we can extend into a refueling one. They are attending a wedding in Branson, but their real claim to fame is their son, Andrew. Last year, he graduated from Fontbonne and this year he attends Yale. He is in Saint Louis to receive an award at Fontbonne.

Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to Strawberry Fields. Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about. Strawberry Fields forever.