Astute readers of The Accidental Wisconsinite may know that I was born in Portland, Maine, but grew up in Portland, Oregon.
I'm about to pack up for the night, but wanted to point something else while I fall asleep to an absolute nailbiter.
The gay marriage debate is often likened to that of interracial marriage. A half-century ago it had several states up in arms, and now we look back (with the exception of some freakazoid (former) judge in Louisiana) and ask "what were we thinking?!?"
Little did I realize a quarter-century ago, when I was a child attending one of my earliest weddings in memory, that some close-minded people may have had a problem with it. To me, this wedding stands out in my foggy reminiscences because it was the first ceremony I recall not being in a church. It was in a house and there was a super fun party in the backyard with lots of tasty food and live music. I remember running around with other kids for hours and having a total blast. In my memory, the house was a yellow Victorian. Only with my societally-influenced adult mind do I recognize that the bride was white and the groom was black.
What difference does that make to me? None. They could be purple, but my Auntie Willow and Uncle Foris were a major part of my childhood and I love them like they were my blood relatives. That's why I don't understand why it would be any different if it were two Aunties or two Uncles getting married? If they were a loving couple and a model to young people of a happy, healthy relationship...why should a law stand in the way of their commitment?
Why can't we get a referendum on the ballot that says "Marriage shall be a recognition of love between two consenting adults, it doesn't matter what is between their legs?"