I've had my rant...now I get to have my rave.

"Home, sings to me of sweet things..." That's a line from a Bonnie Raitt song called "Home", and whenever I hear it, I get a visual of the road that led to our house in Abingdon, VA.

My father was raised there (his family having moved from Bluefield, VA shortly after his birth in 1910), and it was where I spent every summer - until he passed away when I was 19 - in the house where he grew up. He is buried there on Taylor's Hill next to his parents, and I'll bury my mom there when this is all over.

I've been really ill for the past week, so yesterday was the first time I was able to venture out of the house, and I woke up thinking - or more like hearing - "you need to go see Daddy, you gotta go to Abingdon" ...and so I did. And yes, 50 year old semi-Southern women still refer to our fathers as "Daddy". I just have to share with you what has always been so special to me.

A little history about Abingdon can be found here. It was always clear to my sister and I that our summers were special, I just never really understood how cool it was to be a barefoot kid, free to run around with my sister and my friends, in a town that is literally steeped in Civil War history. Let me show you around!

If you click on the map, it'll open in another window, and will certainly be clearer. But the green dot at the end of Leonard St. is our house. The orange dot across town is where I spent my formative years learning about the wily ways of boys...and I do mean ALL between A and B Streets! The Piggly Wiggly was at the end of Main St. as you head out of town; so was the Dairy Queen, which is still there.

Everything else was our own personal stomping ground. I was fascinated at a very early age by the Sinking Spring Cemetery, had many a ghostly experience there; some (in my poinion) real, others made up by boys for the sole purpose of...well, you know. And "The Tavern"...the oldest building in Abingdon...I crossed the street to avoid it when I was a kid, and found myself doing it again yesterday. Some things just carry what is imprinted upon them. Abingdon is a veritable playground for those who have crossed over, but just can't seem to stay there.

Abingdon always had a sort of "To Kill A Mockingbird" kind of groove to it, because gentrification hadn't set in yet. Because the town is so small, anywhere you walked was the 100th time you'd done it, which is probably why it's burned into my memory. The days were hot, the streets were dusty, and yes - you could ride your horse down any street you chose, including Main Street.

Whenever I walked past the Martha Washington Inn, where my grandmother and my father worked in the kitchen (she as a cook, she took him with her as a toddler and he would peel potatoes), I would tell myself that one day I would stay there. That one day I would sit on that huge porch in one of the wicker rockers, and I would watch the world go by...and seven years ago I did. I sat there on the veranda under the soft glow of the porch lights, watched the mountain mist settle over Main Street, and read in until I nearly fell asleep; it was that sublime an experience.

Across the Street is the Barter Theatre, where I believe (and there's no one around to tell me anymore) either my grandmother or grandfather worked. My sister and I used to crack each other up with the idea of people using sacks of potatoes and bushels of carrots to pay to see plays; but that's exactly how it got its name. We would crane our necks to try to get a glimpse of the Hollywood folk who came to perform in the summer...never did see one.

But that was what it was like in town. There was a clear separation of people by class and economic status.

My memories of the area near our house have become sepia toned versions of this...

and this...

and this

My purpose for going there was to have a long conversation with my dad. Just the two of us the way we used to; to apologize for staying away so long, and to ask him to help Miss Lillian acclimate, because she'll be joining him soon. There's no way to know for sure, but I felt that he heard me; that he understood about my long absence...and that he rolled his eyes because he knows he won't get a minute of peace with that woman there... and eternity is a mighty long time to listen to her yammering.

Shaking my head in shame...

I was going to write about my visit yesterday to Abingdon, VA; the little town that shaped my idea of what "home" really is. But that will have to come later...while checking my daily reading, I came across this little gem regarding the decision to let the push for gay marriage in 2010 slide.

I am beyond mortified and saddened. Then I remembered reading the post below (from the "Best of Craigslist Rants and Raves.) This poster said it better than I ever could, so I'll just let him express my outrage.

*****************

California's Gay Marriage Ban: Disgraceful
Originally Posted: Tue, 26 May 20:37 PDT

First let me say I am NOT a mormon. Not everyone in Utah is mormon, in fact the percentage of Mormon to non Mormon is gradually declining as more folks move in from places like California, Nevada, Arizona and the Snowbelt states. So, while the Mormon church does still have some degree of clout here, to boycott Utah thinking you are boycotting the Mormon church, is kind of like the reverse of the Christians telling their congregations that if they go to San Francisco on vacation they are supporting the gay lifestyle. (Everyone with a brain knows that not everybody in San Francisco is gay, in fact it's only about 20% if that.)

I am a California native born/raised/bred, from four generations of Californians born/raised/bred in California, retired to the warm, sunny climate of Southern Utah. I was against the first "defense of marriage" thing years ago when that idiot Republican Peter Knight was on his diatribe because I thought it was divisive and redundant.

I was no longer in the state when this last initiative came onto the ballot. But I would not have supported the measure (meaning I would have voted NO on 8), not because I am pro-gay per se', but out of logic...because I think "marriage" is a religious institution and I don't believe it is the government's role to be involved in either defining, or protecting the definition of any religious institution, under the separation of church and state clause. (In fact, if you want my personal opinion, while I'm not anti-gay at all, I think that the word "marriage" should imply what it has implied for thousands of years, the union between one man and one woman. But, since it is a religious institution, the power to define what constitutes "marriage" should be left strictly up to the religious community for them to debate and discuss. And if I disagree with one religion's views on "marriage", I'm always free to choose another religion. But to have the government tell me who I can and can't "marry" is CRIMINAL. Plain and simple. We have established Government to protect our basic human rights, not to be allowed to strip us of them, and we should demand a redress of grievances immediately! If everyone in the state voted to send all gays to the gas chamber would that make it legal? God forbid!!)

What it boils down to is this: Since "marriage" is a religious institution, then according to Article III of the Bill of Rights, the Government has no business in the "marriage" business...for anyone. The Civil Union should replace "marriage" as the Government recognized legally binding agreement between two people, regardless of gender, and it should be performed by Justices of the Peace (or other appointed Government Officials). We have already established that Government must treat all individuals equally under the law regardless of gender. Therefore, Government should grant the same binding Civil Union to any 2 people who want to apply for the Civil Union, regardless of gender. Once this Civil Union has been performed (a formality), the 2 people can of course go to any church, synagogue, mosque, etc. of their choice and get a "marriage"in whatever religious observance or tradition they see fit. It can't possibly diminish the significance or symbolism of it because in order to get "married" now, a couple needs to obtain a Govt issued license. Essentially, the Civil Union process would just replace the license application process. A side benefit of this would be an added revenue stream to municipalities for the Civil Union process. It's not a tax, it's a fee for services. It would likely require more personnel in many city offices (which the fees would cover), but there would be jobs created. It's not rocket-science.

But here is the crux of the irony in this whole California ballot thing (and just one more reason why I was so glad to leave California because it's just gotten beyond ridiculous....) But it shows how backward things are. California can't even pay its own bills anymore...but it's worried about trying to "defend" the definition of "marriage". How rich is that?

I have to wonder how many of those people who went to the polls to vote for this poorly-written measure to "defend marriage" are not even "married" themselves, but rather just shacked up together? (Before you tell me it's a 'common law marriage', you can stick it. It's not the same as that legally-binding marriage certificate...you know, that little piece of paper that the lawyers use to take away half your assets when you want to walk out on your spouse. That's why, when you're shacked up it's a lot easier to bail, even if you've been shacked up for 20 years and have kids and property together.) How many of those who voted for the measure even have a religous belief about anything? How many of them could even stay in a long-term relationship, much less a "marriage" without cheating on a partner/spouse (e.g.: committing adultery)? How many of those worried about "preserving the sanctity of marriage" have already been married and divorced once, twice or even three times...or even perhaps more...and re-married? Or here's one that I really would like to ask the religious community, how many of those religious right wing nutjobs calling themselves Christians who went on a diatribe about this measure, have been divorced and re-married, when Jesus specifically condemned this, (except in certain circumstances)? Answer me that. There is so much muck in their own back yards to clean up, they should stick with that instead of worrying about what others are doing.

How does it make you feel to know that your school systems are among the worst in the country, so bad that the majority of kids aren't getting the same quality education as their same-age peers in most other states...but at least now your homos can't get married. Thank God for that, though! Right? Show them who's boss!

The schools are in shambles, the roads need paving, there is no money to pay the police, firefighters and teachers and hundreds of other state jobs, and tens of thousands of kids have no medical care. But you have just made it that much harder for the queers who live next door to you to visit each other in the hospital if they ever get sick. What a worthwhile accomplishment! Give them the punishment they deserve! They're just queers, who cares?

Your kids are graduating high school and they can't read or write, and yet you just spent millions passing one of the most hate-based, discriminatory laws since the pre-civil rights era. How does it make you feel now that you've gotten your way, all of you self-righteous Christians and Mormons and Jews and Muslims and Atheists and who knows whoever or whatever else is reading this (I hope the whole world)...who solicited funds to get this measure passed? Here's a novel question...WHY did you people donate time and money to pass this measure when you could have just as easily given the money and time and energy for a worthwhile cause like doing something about the collapsing school system? Or lobbying your state assembly to change an immigration policy that is collapsing the state budget? Or one of the LITANY of more truly important issues facing your state? Are those things not important to you?

Apparently, fighting the cause of homophobia is more important than any of those issues. Do you think homosexuality is some kind of contagious disease? Is it the next global pandemic? Is it going to rub off on you or your kids? Does it spread through the air? Is it in the water? Are homo germs going to blow east and "infect" the rest of us in the free world if you don't take it upon yourselves to stop them? Please tell me, because I would really like to know how you think. Because frankly I don't understand how anyone's choice of a mate (which is entirely someone else's personal matter) can possibly have an effect on you so much that you would go to such lengths as to try and deny others the right to a peaceful and loving co-existence.

What doesn't seem to add up here is that homosexuality suddenly doesn't seem so taboo when all you straight guys shut the door to your den (behind your wives back) and go onto your favorite dial-a-porn site and watch the lesbians licking each other for the camera while you pleasure yourself with a bottle of lube. But, hey, we won't talk about that. It's OK for beautiful girls with big boobs and luscious lips to do each other for your porn addiction, but just don't ever let two "faggots" get married and/or move into your neighborhood. That's not the kind of homosexuality we want. But it's fine if you want to try and talk your wife or girlfriend into doing it with another woman (or two) while you watch, that's somehow "normal"...but the thought of two "faggots" who love each other getting married and moving in next to you is "just unnatural". (BTW, In case you hadn't noticed, you are what's called a pathetic loser.)

I'm totally puzzled here, California. Not because I expect you to make decisions based on religion, but simply because California has always been the leader in civil rights, equality and justice for all, and most importantly a "live and let live" ethic. California is not perfect, but at least you had a couple of things going for you in the human rights category. However, I am disappointed. You have let the country and the world down. You need to go back to the drawing-board and re-think this one because you made the wrong decision...at the polls, and in the courts.

Location: I'm in Utah
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 1190733170

Meanwhile, back at the nursing home...

Over the last few days, I've gotten a serious reality check. Miss Lillian is a tiny shell of her former self in a sterile bed. And yet, I have to get my humor wherever I can find it; if you can't laugh at the hard stuff what's left to do? Cry. And I'm not ready for that yet.

If you have to make the unfortunate decision to place your parent in a place like this, you could certainly do far worse. It's clean, smells really nice, and the staff are fun and very caring. What makes the visits easier for me are the residents...they are the stuff that screenplays are made of!

There's Bob, who has Alzheimer's. Bob is very mobile but completely non-verbal, and never leaves his room without his "Tennessee Titans" ball cap, sometimes he wears two, one right on top of the other. And Bob loves to just stop in and visit. We're never sure who he's going to bless with his presence, or how or why he chooses the recipient; but he always has the sweetest expression on his face. I get the sense that he's always about to say something nice.

And there's the woman in the purple sweater, whom I have nicknamed "Gorgeous". She has no idea who she is, what her name is, or why she's there; but she always rolls up, grasps my hand and sweetly waves to me. I tell her how pretty she is in her purple sweater and she blushes to the very roots of her hair, says "Oh go on!" and then rolls away. She is adorable!

There's also The Cookie Man. A very dapper gentleman who always has a packet of Honey Graham crackers in his hand. He's never without them and always makes a point of holding them up, waving them, to tell anyone who will listen: "They're number one with me!" I think he's told me that 15 times in 4 days. But he's always smiling, which makes me smile.

But my favorite is...The Topless Woman. Every time I turn around, she's sitting quietly in her wheelchair, smiling peacefully, folding her shirt...and naked from the waist up. Yes, that's right...boobs flapping in the breeze, and obviously happy to be that way. I've gotten very comfortable with the staff as well as the residents, so if they're busy I'll just go help her get back into her top. Ten minutes later it's off again. Yesterday while in the middle of folding her top, the phone rang at the nurses' station and she thought it was her phone. She had her sweater in one hand, and her imaginary phone up to her ear and was very frustrated that she couldn't hear the person on the other end. "Hello? Hello? You'll have to speak up, I can't hear you!" She sighed and hung up. "I guess they'll call back", she said, and then sweetly and serenely went back to neatly folding her top.

It may sound sad or depressing, but it really isn't. Whatever their reality, they are happy and cheerful and well cared for. We should all be so lucky.

Begin at the beginning...

I always say that in my next life, I want to be a six foot tall redhead with big boobs. To that, I have to add that I'll be a long distance trucker. I totally get the lure of driving on roads that seem to be endless. I started this trip with two objectives: thinking and driving. Thinking about the situation I was heading into, and driving with one eye on the road, the other on the landscape. I wasn't disappointed with either undertaking. California is familiar to me; the landscape is no surprise, and I was mostly thrilled to view it from my rear view mirror. But to see this little gem...this rang my bells!


As I made my way across the US of A, I was so amazed at how the topography changed so radically as I pushed forward. Arizona was hot as hell for the most part (average 110 degrees), but the landscape was so different...so lunar...that I didn't mind. The sky goes on forever.



And speaking of lunar...remember this from 3rd grade science class?
I couldn't help myself and had to make the detour up the road to nowhere!

The folks I encountered were very friendly, and I discovered that you're liable to see anything on the road in AZ. This was my favorite, as was the car directly in front of it.

I also had the funniest encounter with a Native American guy at a rest stop; where I had a Sherman Alexie moment. Sherman Alexie is a Spokane/Coeur d'Alene Indian writer, and one of my favorite writers. The musical musings of two of his recurrent characters, Victor Joseph and Thomas Builds-The-Fire, are always wandering around in my head. But I digress...this guy was hitting on me at a rest stop, and he kept saying things like "you look nice"...and I hope I don't offend you, but you look nice."

I kept thinking, of course I look nice. I'm clean. I'm well dressed. Isn't that why you do those things? Then I remembered, long after I'd driven away: that's the way an Indian man tells a woman that he thinks she's hot. Simple and understated, right?

Anyway...tomorrow: New Mexico, my spiritual home.

Sissy Takes a Road Trip...For Reals!

Getting in the car and taking off in no particular direction is one of my favorite things to do. When I'm stressed, I drive. It's not unusual for me to find myself on the Riverside Freeway (heading to God knows where) at 2am, because I'm so freaked out/stressed out by life that I just have to soothe myself with the sound of the rubber meeting the road.

The past month or so has been enough to make a black woman want to take off her earrings and throw down with God. Job stress and craziness...money stress and craziness...and then I get the phone call that my mother is not well. At that point, I figured that one more thing added to the pile wouldn't break me; little did I know that her illness would be the thing to facilitate the road trip of my fantasies.

Miss Lillian (as she is known) is 88 years old, more than a little unstable - now with the added dimension of dementia. She has a myriad of age related health issues that have all decided to manifest at once. Independent well past the point of stubbornness, she has insisted on living alone; but that's come to an end, and her greatest fear - loss of autonomy - has been realized. Hence, her steadfast denial of the cancer they just happened to find while trying to manage her other matters.

Our relationship...well there isn't one...but personally, I think that since your parents were present at the beginning of your life; you should be there at the end of theirs. So it was off to Johnson City, TN for me. In fact, I've just arrived; and since sitting in a car for hours isn't conducive to my creative process, I've decided to give you the details once the wheels have stopped turning in my head. For now, I can take comfort in the fact that I'm on familiar ground...and that makes me happy.



It really does.