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  • A Birthday and a Wedding

    We had a quiet Birthday party yesterday.
    We brought home cooking into the Hospital in bags and baskets.
    My mother brought lentil soup, salad, fruit and blueberry buckwheat muffins.
    I made crab cakes, dredged in chickpea flour.
    We had thermos’ full of drinks.
    There were 4 of us in the small room then my brothers all called, and then my Aunt.
    The switch to Hospital from care facility is another part of a cycle.

    Last night there was a round of calls from my Husband’s family.
    Florida father, New Mexico brother and then LA brother called.
    I talked with LA brother for a while. There is a place he wants to take us on our next visit.
    “We went to a wedding on Saturday,” he said. It was his son-in-law’s brother’s wedding.

    I had seen the proposal video, my first viewing of a proposal video.
    There was lots of dancing, singing and high production.
    “How was it?” I asked.

    “The grooms rode in on a unicorn,” he said.
    Get Out!
    “The grooms had a dancing contest each with a group of dancers,” he said.
    “Like West Side Story?” I asked.
    “Exactly like that,” he said.
    There were entertainers singing, but my knowledge of the line-up was worse than ignorant.
    Did I know this song? Or that artist? Umm, no… Oh, yeah, I had heard of him at least.

    The gathered group of 425 guests went collectively nuts when the artist known for one song came out and sang that one song.
    “Wow.” I said.
    “It made the Trade Papers,” he said. “I’ll send you the link for the video.”
    “Oh, Wow.” I replied. “How was the food?”

    This morning I realized that something bigger was at the heart of the fear and hostility to Gay Marriage. It is back on the ballot here, again, in Maine, ‘Preserve the sanctity of Marriage Act.’
    The bar has been raised way up, gay-bird high.
    How many little girls out there will now want to be married with a Unicorn, how many hours will they spend rehearsing their dance numbers?
    How many husbands-to-be already have trouble getting out of blue jeans, into a suit?
    And they don’t know how to dance.
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