Life is Temporarily Pink

When I arrived in San Francisco, I was warmly greeted by Charlie and his boyfriend Jamie. Charlie, the 1st VP of CBH and an active volunteer of the Rainbow Center (http://www.congregationbethaverim.org/ and http://www.therainbowcenter.com/) was another Atlantan invited to the convening. We drove to his aunt and uncle's home in Russian Hill for dinner.

Melody, Charlie's aunt, was a relative of Frank Baum, the author of ther Wizard of Oz and his uncle was an excellent lawyer and art collector/dealer who is currently suffering from aphasia. While our conversation initially started on track, I could easily sense the aphasia as we began to veer into non-sequiturs. Melody, quite the conversationalist, kept the conversation going as she balanced between guiding her husband to the right words and ignoring the random and sometimes shocking phrases. On one hand, it was quite sad to see such a talented and bright man who used words for a living kept prisoner by them and on the other it was admirable to see how Melody and he coped, making the best of a terrible situation. It was another reminder to me how grateful to be for this moment.

After a terrific dinner, which was on an exquisitely set table: silver, crystal, beautiful flowers and an awesome view (Melody said setting beautiful tables was her thing), we made our way to the Castro to encounter some gay "family" at the Pink Party. The pink party is a massive street party the Sat night before pride hosted by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. The sisters began "a long, long time ago, let's say 1976, in a place very far away (Cedar Rapids, Iowa), a convent of Roman Catholic nuns lent some retired habits to a group of men performing their version of The Sound of Music. Three years later, those habits resurfaced in the streets of San Francisco's Castro district..." (Read more at www.thesisters.org/sistory.html )



At the entrance gate was Eric Nielsen, someone I met organizing against Amendment1 in GA. It was so great to see him. This time though he was no longer a preppy guy but had a full red beard with a curly-q moustache. After catching up, Charlie, Jamie and I watched drag cheerleaders in the middle of the street do routines to Lady Gaga songs. We then made our way to a bear party, where after meeting Charlie's ex and being introduced to a den (?) of bears, we stood around awkwardly not speaking to anyone. When we returned home, I saw on my twitter feed just as I was about to go to sleep that there had been a fatal shooting at the very intersection where we were standing for a good bit. The shooting happened less than 10 minutes after we left. Ok, I get it. Life is temporary.

Up in the Air

Finally, I finished the rough draft of Amy and Kiana's wedding outline on the plane and it is a good thing that the template was not written in ink as I teared up many times thinking about there union in 2 weeks. Wearing dark sunglasses allowed me the privacy of my sentimentality on the plane.

Mimi and Kiki as I have affectionately grown to think of them are my Hawaiian ohana. They were friends I met on my sabbatical in Hawaii, who quickly became family to me. I adore them and appreciate how they incorporated me into their lives. I have had dinners with Kiana's parents, shared a lei day (May Day is Lei Day! in Hawaii) concert with them and my mom, and I have spent time with Kiana's sister and foster daughter.

It was in the cozy but loud sushi emporium Tokkuri-tei that resembles a cluttered 70s den with wood panelling that I met Amy and Kiana (actually for Kiana this was our second get together--it was sibling-like love at first sight) who were meeting each other for the first time. Amy, a Kentuckyan living in Asheville and Kiana, a Hawaiian wedding photographer had been courting lonmg distance over the internet. They were both adorable, but I loved the puff of pink hair on Amy's head who with her adventurous spirit trekked to Honolulu to meet this awesome woman. We laughed at the crazy menu which was annotated with comments like the one under Make Your Own Sushi: Tell us what you want, we are not Nazi. It was there where I fell in love with Kiana's gentle kindness and inquistive questioning and Amy's silly enthusiasm, and an almost self deprecating wonderous but adventurous approach to the world.

I will not see them for a few days yet, and my tenderness is not just about them. There is a sadness about leaving Shane for over 2 weeks --particularly over our 2nd year anniversary. And even that is magnified by a week at the synagogue that has been just short of the miraclous. Having led and participated one of the most honest, raw, and fiercely loving memorial services and the bar mitzvah of a boy with 2 mothers and 2 fathers who each in their complicated ways elicited such a loving celebration of the man that he is becoming that I feel molded by Divine hands open and tender. Operating as some kind of vessel without my usual cynical eye I have felt present to a holiness that has coursed through me helping to create openings for people's best selves to emerge.

It has put me in the best possible place to arrive in San Francisco for the Movement Building Convening of LGBT Jews. Yet another kind of family to explore. I secretly refer to this gathering as the Gay Jewish Mafia where our purpose is to make you feel guilty for looking good!

Even more so this week has allayed any anxiety I have over the other purpose of my trip to Hawaii. This week has been a great guide to see the holy over the frustrating and to let the connection not be obscured by the obstacles that arise. How's that for double speak?