Marriage Opinions

                Sometimes I feel like I'm repeating myself too frequently (and really, I'm not fond of repetition), but people keep asking the same questions. Generally, I write down an answer I've been asked to give over and over, in the hopes that having it "down on paper" will mean that I don't have to say it as often.

                Part of the problem is differing views on the act of communication itself. I have always believed, and continued to function on, the idea that asking for someone's opinion is a way to understand what they're thinking. The point, it has always seemed to me, is for people with differing ideas to say, "OK, now I know why you act the way that you do. It's because you believe X." Then everyone goes on their way having been heard and with their views recognized. The world is a better place when we understand each other.

                I am completely uncomfortable, and in fact, flabbergasted, at a very common occurrence in modern "communication," the idea that everyone will, or should, walk away from a conversation agreeing with one another. I cannot imagine how this is supposed to take place. Get a small number of people together – say, 4 to 6 – and ask them to come to a consensus about what to have for lunch. It is not a quick, easy, painless or bonding kind of process. Yet otherwise rational people continue to believe that if they simply tell you why they don't agree with you on any topic, that you will see the error of your ways and change your opinion. The larger or more important the issue, the more they are convinced that this will happen. When it doesn't occur, instead of realizing that they have faulty expectations, they will get more and more upset, accusing those who continue (the nerve of them!) to believe something contrary to their own opinions of being stubborn, ignorant or the current favorite, hateful.

                It is not, nor has it ever been, hateful to disagree with anyone. It IS hateful to say things like, "You shouldn't even be allowed to say that!" and I have ironically heard that sentiment come out of the mouths of people who are claiming that they represent open mindedness and tolerance.

                So let me be clear – I express my opinion in order to ensure that others understand me, not so that everyone will say, "My goodness, she's right!" Understanding and agreement are not the same thing.

                I recently read a list of reasons that the author gives on why no one should ever oppose gay marriage. One of the reasons was, "Marriage is a civil ceremony. Therefore, marriage is a civil right." Here is why some of us will never agree on this issue.

                Some people believe what my religion teaches, which is that marriage is a religious rite, like baptism. We believe it was instituted before the world was created, by a Supreme Being, and is unaffected by the rules or whims or desires of men. Just as we do not believe that someone can choose or alter the correct form, or the necessity of, baptism, we do not believe that legal, man made rules have any effect at all on marriage. If you believe that marriage was instituted by humans, and especially if you believe that marriage was instituted by men in order to subjugate and oppress women, we will never agree on this subject. We will never have the same definition of marriage. We can understand each other, and we should, but we will not agree.

                The fact that civil marriage exists at all is a concession, we believe. Civil marriage came about because people wanted, but did not qualify for, marriage in its original form. Or, they wanted the benefits of marriage, but did not want or agree with the religion that provided it. People came up with a compromise – folks who did not want or did not qualify for a religious marriage could have a civil service, a union recognized by governments but not necessarily by churches. It is the religious equivalent of a GED, saying, "You can have the same legal standing and rights as couples married in the church, but you didn't fulfill the same requirements that others did." We believe that one of the biggest differences is that marriages performed only civilly last only until one spouse dies, whereas marriages performed by proper religious authority last forever.

                Even in my church, not everyone is married by such religious authority. It is not seen as a guaranteed right, but as something very precious and therefore obtained with a degree of difficulty.

                We're not alone. Many churches will have new converts rebaptized or remarried, even if they had already done these things years ago, because their church authorities do not recognize ceremonies performed outside of their church. Even if you are legally married for decades, in order for their church to consider your union (or your divorce) valid, you must fulfill their religious requirements.

                It goes without saying that the vast majority of folks on the planet will disagree on this subject. Not agreeing is OK.

                One of the other statements on the list was, "It is no longer your personal religious view if you are bothering someone else." Um, I'm sorry, but that's just silly. That's like saying that your opinion doesn't really exist if it bothers or offends me. You have a legal and God-given right to do things that bother and offend me. I have a legal and God-given right to do things that bother and offend you.

                I wish I remember which elected official said it, so I could properly attribute one of my favorite things ever said on the floor of the U. S. Congress. It was in the mid to late 1980s, when burning the U. S. flag was a hot button issue. One man stood up and said, "What makes this country great is not that it protects the rights of those that are right; it's that it also protects the rights of those that are wrong." If this man were from my state, he would have had my vote for life.

                I realize that it offends people when I say that I don't think that marriage laws should be changed. Pointing that out to me wastes both of our time. You are not changing what you think and do if I'm offended; I should not be expected to change myself because you are offended.

                Here's the thing: because civil marriage exists completely outside the framework of religion, there's some wiggle room. (I don't understand people who think that their religious leaders should change. If you believe that God is the author of your religion – and if you don't, why do you belong to it? - it doesn't make sense that you would say to God, "Gee, good job creating the universe and all, but I think you're wrong about this, and I think that I can do better.") This is why I think there's room for the creation of new laws, by humans and for humans. What any nation or group of people decides is not binding upon God.

                In order for gay couples to have all the legal rights and obligations of married couples, I believe that what needs to change are the domestic partnership laws, not marriage laws. Domestic partnerships should have, aside from gender, the same requirements as a marriage license. They should cost the same, be as readily available, have the same documentation, waiting periods, paperwork, officiants, whatever. Aside from gender, they should be the same as a marriage. Adoption of children, alimony, insurance, everything should be identical. Commonlaw marriage laws already recognize that people can be granted the rewards and obligation of marriage without going through the usual avenues. I think that domestic partnerships should be another reflection that you can take different roads to the same legal  destination. Governments should recognize domestic partnerships as being equal to a marriage, the same way a GED is the legal equivalent of a high school diploma.

                I read an opinion that said that civil partnerships were not equality because "they deny me the right to call my chosen partner my husband." I don't think so. First, "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Second, I know heterosexual unmarried people who refer to their partners as "my husband" and "my wife."  In my life, we have aunts, uncles, siblings, nieces, nephews and a grandchild who are not related to us by birth, marriage or adoption; we still refer to them by those familial titles. I know both heterosexual and gay families that practice plural marriage – not legally, of course, but that's the point. They consider more than one person a spouse, regardless of the law. When someone introduces me to someone else, I will refer to that person by that title, whether legal or not. Call someone "my husband," and I will always introduce and refer to them as "X's husband." I know men who used to be women and women who used to be men – I refer to them by their chosen gender and new names (despite the fact that I think their spirits will be returned to their original gender after death). It's just common courtesy.

                I've also heard, repeatedly, that it's discriminatory and offensive to call gay unions by a different title than heterosexual unions. I just can't get behind that. Here is a group expecting others to change, bend or give up their religious beliefs, the teachings of their parents and/or their moral convictions, (opinions that, by the way, have been accepted for many years) because that group believes that those beliefs are wrong. (I'm not concerned with which side is a majority; I think that majority votes are a very unreliable way of determining moral considerations.) They expect this to happen immediately and quietly and painlessly. They further expect that their ideals should be made law, the sooner the better. Yet, they are unwilling to bend themselves on the matter of a single word. "It must be called a marriage, or it's inferior," even if it is legally identical. That equation is extremely lopsided. When I was a kid, people said, "All we want is the legal rights that others have." Now, they say, "It's not equal unless it has the same label."

            I would not mind if all partnerships formed legally instead of religiously were called "partnerships," leaving "marriage" as a strictly religious term. I don't think that's "discriminatory" at all. I do mind when someone tells me that that opinion means that I'm "hateful" and that I view some people as less than human. I don't call you "hateful" because you disagree with me, I tell these people, but they tell me, "It's different." No, it isn't.

Churches should always be free from government interference, and free to choose what they will or won't recognize. Freedom of religion does not mean that choosing to practice a religion is unpatriotic. Read any founding document of the United States, or speech given by someone revered as a Founding Father, and you will find phrases like "Almighty God" and "the Hand of Providence." They intended that there be no state religion and no government interference in religious matters, not the absence of religious thought or influence. Every person is legally (and morally) allowed to choose for THEMSELVES, not for everyone else.

I really cannot stand hearing someone say, "You can't legislate morality." OK, I'll say – let's take, "Thou shalt not kill." Coming from the Bible as it does, we obviously have to weed that out of our laws, so let's eliminate all laws regarding murder, manslaughter, wrongful death, child abuse that causes death, medical malpractice or neglect of any kind resulting in death… out they go. "Thou shalt not steal" – out go the laws on theft, burglary, embezzlement, fraud, robbery, tax evasion. "Thou shalt not bear false witness:" perjury, libel, defamation of character, fraudulent claims, misleading advertising, plagiarism, intellectual property right, copyright – gone.

Please. You can try to tell me that it's just a coincidence that those laws have a counterpart in ancient religious law, but I won't buy it. I don't believe in coincidence.

Disagreeing with anyone – let me make that clear, ANYONE – does not mean that you should ever view them as less of a person, less valuable, less intelligent, less deserving of your consideration or friendship or love or courtesy. That includes people who hold opinions that you find wrong or offensive or immoral. If you are going to call me, or anyone else, choice names because of their beliefs, if you are going to believe that you don't need to be polite to me because I'm wrong, if you feel that it's OK to make fun of me because I'm wrong (or misguided or uninformed or brainwashed - I've heard them all), then you have no leg to stand on, and in fact look rather ridiculous, when you tell me that your view is the one that celebrates and breeds tolerance.

Where in the World?

                I came away from the mailbox disappointed again. Walking into the house sighing for the fourth day in a row, I said to my family, "This is silly. I'm a 46 year old woman, depressed because the paper doll I'm expecting in the mail hasn't arrived yet."

                You see, hundreds of miles away, an eight year old that I claim as a nephew, despite a lack of blood or marriage ties, has a school assignment. (I've claimed his mother as part of my family for decades – in fact, pretty much my whole life – so I get the rest of her family as a bonus.) His mom phoned and said, "So, we've got this Flat Stanley thing. Do you want to help?" Do I? I practically jumped up and down shouting, "Pick me! Pick me!"

                If you've had a child in elementary school any time in the past two decades or so, you've come across Flat Stanley. He's the hero of a children's book, flattened in a freak bulletin board accident. Stanley discovers that his new situation is convenient, travelwise – he can go anywhere for the price of a stamp. Schools all over America now encourage kids to create their own Stanley, or a paper version of themselves, and send him or her to visit friends and relatives. The students mark on a map the places the doll has visited, and learn about those places. It's a fun way to incorporate geography, social studies and letter writing skills into the kids' lessons. The doll is typically photographed wherever s/he visits, and brings those photos and maybe postcards or souvenirs back home to his/her creator.

                 When my son's third grade class did their project, they chose one boy and one girl to represent the class, and made life size Flat Gilberto and Flat Hannah. We got to take Flat Hannah over spring break, and we took a lot of our photos at Disneyland, within minutes of my nephew Jack's house. We have photos of Flat Hannah with Mickey Mouse, at Sea World, and across the border in Tijuana, Mexico. We carried Flat Hannah in a legal sized manila envelope and whipped her out at every opportunity. Flat Hannah rides the Small World boats! Flat Hannah rides the Sun Wheel in California Adventure! As the week progressed, my son (who hates a scene in public) started gritting his teeth. "We have enough pictures, Mom."

                "We don't have any here!" I'd say.

                When his teacher created a page to represent their class in the school yearbook, she put the photo of Flat Hannah and Mickey Mouse in the center of the page. I was delighted. My son was mildly embarrassed.

                My nephew, Jack, had done the standard kid thing of setting his assignment aside and forgetting about it, so that by the time it came to his mother's attention, time was at a premium. I wouldn't have time to get extraordinarily creative, but I'd have time to get local landmarks and have some fun.

                I waited impatiently until Flat Jack showed up. On the day he arrived, my kids knew how excited I'd be. "Mooooom. He's heeeeere."

                I had an entire itinerary planned. I took off on a round trip drive of approximately six hours, stopping to take two or three dozen photos. Flat Jack visited museums, lakes, the major river in our area, petroglyphs, the Navy Air Base that currently houses the Top Gun flight school, an old military fort and Pony Express stop and the highway that "Life" magazine proclaimed "The Loneliest Road in America."

                I took Flat Jack downtown and shot photos, including one under the Reno arch. A family walking down the sidewalk wanted to know where my doll was from and informed me, with glee, "We have a bear." The tiny teddy bear came out of a purse and was suitably photographed under the arch.

                As I taped Flat Jack to a light pole in front of the ballpark and shot him from different angles, the rickshaw driver, waiting for customers needing a ride back to their cars, said, "Ma'am, I've seen a lot of strange things in Reno, but I'm not even going to ask what you're doing."

                For his trip to Virginia City, I actually made Flat Jack a paper bag vest and cowboy hat, so he could get an "old time photo," one of the more popular souvenirs there.

                I also sent Jack brochures and computer printouts from the places the doll and I visited. It's a good thing I used a flat rate mailing envelope.

                At dinner a week later, my 26 year old nephew and my 24 year old daughter ribbed me about the whole thing. "Did you talk to him? Did you buckle him into his seat?"

                This enthusiasm for school projects is a major reason that I got good grades. Yes, I was that kid, the one who got excited when the teacher announced an assignment – "We get to build a scale model of the Great Pyramid at Giza, using sugar cubes? YAAAAAYYYYY!"

                When I was in elementary school, the teacher announced that for our homework, we needed to bring in a leaf from three separate types of plants. I remember clearly one boy wailing that the assignment was too hard. "It shouldn't be that hard," the teacher said. "Just go out in your back yard."

                "I don't have a back yard. We live in an apartment."

                "Well, does your complex have a common area, maybe a playground?"

"NO!"

                "Does it have any lawn, and maybe a tree?"

                "A lawn, but no trees."

                "So there's no other plants besides grass? There's no shrubs or anything?"

                "What are shrubs?"

                "Bushes. Are there any bushes?"

                "Maybe, but not like, right next to our door or anything."

                "Ok, so in your complex, you have a lawn and a bush. There's two leaves right there. There's bound to be a dandelion or some clover in the lawn, so there's your three." The kid pouted.

                I never understood those kids. I went home to my yard, which was over an acre (not counting the horse pasture), and I filled an entire binder. That's how I learned the names of the various plants, so from then on I knew a yew from a juniper. I picked the leaves, mounted them on binder paper, and labeled them. I coveted leaves from our neighbor's tree, a catalpa, since it had huge leaves. After clearing it with my mom, I asked for a leaf, which they gladly gave. It was the largest leaf I had, almost dinner plate size, and I thought it was very clever that I mounted it on the same page as the smallest leaf, a weeping willow. (No blades of grass for me.)

                My teacher, who was familiar with my work, was still floored. "Where did you get all these?"

                "From my yard."

                "All of them?"

                "Well, except one from my neighbors."

                "Where do you live?"

                "Probasco Way."

                The teacher was still puzzled. My fairly ordinary street didn't seem like a botanical paradise.

                I thought of that project when a family friend, Brandi (a freshman) had a similar project for her biology class. "We have to get 20 different kinds of leaves," she told her mother.

                "Oh! Oh! I know EXACTLY where you need to go!" I told her.

                She looked puzzled. "The teacher said to go to Rancho San Rafael or somewhere."

                "No! You need to go to my mother's house!" I was very enthusiastic about the whole thing.

                Brandi said, "Wow. You're more excited about this than my teacher was, and she's pretty excited."

                My mom is now elderly and walks with a walker, so she couldn't come around the yard with us, but she wanted to make sure that Brandi got the full range of leaves. "Don't forget this. Did you make sure she got some of that?" Brandi was excited. More than once, she said, "Our teacher told us we probably wouldn't find any like this!"

                My mom rocks.

                When Brandi brought in her labeled binder full of leaves, she got the same question. "Where did you get all these?"

                "My friend's grandmother's yard."

                She got a good grade. Brandi rocks.

                Last year, my son took an ancient civilizations class in which he had to complete five projects per semester, reflecting whatever civilization they were currently studying. One of the suggested projects was creating a mock archaeological dig.

                My mother still has her horse pasture, even though no horses have lived there for decades. My son gathered up some of the knick knacks I have, some kite string, a yardstick and a shovel, and walked down to his grandmother's house. (We live only two blocks away.) He laid out a string grid pattern, and buried my dollar store antiquities.

                My son also rocks.

                You can guess what his teachers asked. "Where did you do this?"

                "My grandma's house."

                "Where did you get this stuff?"

                "My mom has stuff like this just lying around." (This is quite true.)

                 What would we do, though, without Grandma's yard?

                Grandma: facilitating good grades for generations.