In light of last weeks ruling by the Supreme Court, declaring gay marriage a constitutional right. I’m reposting this blog.

Originally posted 4/1/13

Usually, Male Pattern Madness is a place to get a nice laugh, and we stay away from overly serious or controversial topics. But this is something I feel strongly about and since I have a blog, I decided to express my opinion here. So, if you’re not inclined to hear me on my soapbox, just come back in a couple of days.

Last week, the Supreme Court listened to arguments on two different cases involving gay & lesbians’ right to marry. Now if I were King of the United States, I’d make the government find a new word and get out of the “marriage” business. States would issue “domestic partner” contracts entitling both sides to all the rights currently reserved for married couples. Marriages would become religious ceremonies like bar mitzvahs, confirmations and baptisms. Each church could apply whatever standard they wanted. But since I’m not K.O.T.U.S., that’s not going to happen.

A gay friend has declared he won’t marry his partner until all people are free to marry the person they love. (I tease him that he’s just trying to avoid commitment.) Whenever the topic comes up, my typical response is, “Why on earth would you want that?” With a spouse, you’re entitled to the drama of the in-laws, the contempt that comes from familiarity, and the spark of romance dampened by the monotony of everyday life. If they’re crazy enough to subject themselves to that, I say, “More power to them.”

But when pushed for a serious answer I’m squarely in the camp of “it’s a civil rights issue.” If you’ve read this blog, you know my parents were of different races. And because they were from two different races, their marriage wasn’t legal everywhere they went. Some people argued that a mixed-race marriage was unnatural and diminished the value of their own marriage. Other self-described Christian leaders used bible verses as evidence that it was against “God’s will” to accept mixed-race marriages. By today’s perspective, it’s obvious those arguments were motivated by nothing more than bigotry. Fortunately for my brother, my sister and me, our Mexican-American father and Japanese mother only listened to the love in their hearts and built their lives together.

It took until 1967, for a marriage like my parents’ to be legally recognized in all 50 states. It wasn’t because the citizens of each state willingly acknowledged their right to be married, it was because the Supreme Court ruled that it was unconstitutional for states to deny some couples the rights of other married couples. This right seems obvious when reading the Declaration of Independence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Whether the pursuit of marriage would lead to Happiness is debatable (ask any husband), but when two people love each other, no matter what race or gender, they deserve the unalienable right to decide that for themselves.

I went back to my home town for a vacation recently. It was nice to hang around the old stomping grounds. While a lot has changed, the places that are still there also seemed different in many ways.

As I was driving past my old high school, I noticed an old concrete wall, a wall that my high school buddies and I would always scale as opposed to walking around. I hadn’t seen the wall in 30 years. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and starred at it. I had always remembered the wall being at least 15 feet tall which would have indeed been a worthy accomplishment had we scaled the wall that I envisioned. The wall that stood in front of me was 11 feet tall tops. My old man body could have scaled it. I chose not to scale it because I didn’t want to hear the lecture on the way to the emergency room if I happened to pull a muscle, but I could have done it. It was a little disappointing; I wish I hadn’t recognized it.

A little later in the week, my son and I happened to play golf at a course that my mother-in-law used to live on. As we approached the 14^th tee, I pointed out her house to my son, “That’s Grandma’s old house.”

“I don’t remember that house,” he replied.

“That is the house with the pool that you played in hundreds of times,” I corrected.

“Seriously, I’ve never been to that house, are you sure that’s the right one?” was his confused reply.

“I can assure you that is the house, go look at it,” I said as he walked over to the fence. He walked over and peered over the fence for a long while and then caught up to us in the fairway.

“I remember it being so much bigger, her yard was the size of a football field, and her pool was enormous!” he recalled.

“Sorry to disappoint, but that was her house. The last time you were there was 10 years ago which means that everything you see is probably about ¼ scale compared to your current size” I explained.

“I still can’t believe how small it is,” he said as I prepared to hit my shot. Now my mother-in-law had a very nice house with a large yard and pool, but it was not the Olympic size pool and football field sized yard my son had remembered through his 9-year-old eyes. You could tell he was almost disappointed to see the house.

Memories are almost always different than the real thing. I am pleased to announce Dick’s hamburgers and Nanaimo bars still taste the same, although Dick’s shakes seemed a little off. Going out on Puget Sound in a sailboat was everything I remembered and more. Golfing with old friends on courses from my childhood was a nice trip through time.  A lot of trees I remember from childhood are gone. Overall it still feels like home, which is a good thing. Although I’ve heard that if you happen to be 30” taller, the view is completely different.

Here’s a link to dad’s winning the parenthood race.

http://www.viralthread.com/heroic-dads/?utm_rcreplace_39=3220&ts_pid=2&ts_pid=2