I am amazed.

I am amazed.

The bill went through the Senate today and directly to the Governor's desk where he signed it into law.

Laura and I can get married.

Unless.

Of course there had to be an "unless," didn't there?

We can get married, unless opponents of marriage equality gather the 55,000 signatures necessary to put this thing on a referendum ballot. If they do that, the courts will put a hold on the law so that nobody can get married before it goes to a vote.

Because we wouldn't want people to actually have equality, even for a little while, before we deny it to them again, now would we? That could get messy, like our friends in California. You don't want people being married and then have to tell them that maybe they aren't, really.

I am at once inspired and discouraged. I am thrilled that the right people understand this thing and did the right thing. I am discouraged that there will be enough people willing to sign to take my rights away.

We've got September 19 penciled in on the calendar as our wedding date. I wonder how many other couples have to consider whether a court might prevent their nuptials?

Tomorrow we get to work defending what is right. Tonight we dance. Today is a very good day to be in Maine.

My heart is full of hope and promise today

So, um, the Maine House of Representatives, after three hours of sometimes VERY emotional debate today passed L.D. 1020 by a vote of 89 to 58. It's marginally stronger than the 3-2 margin of support the bill received in the Senate last week. This is amazing.

It goes to the Governor after a brief stop in the Senate for a confirmation vote, and unless he vetoes it, it will become law. In Maine, a governor can set aside a piece of legislation and allow it to become law without his signature, but in order to stop it, he would have to use his veto power. I don't see that happening here. I could be wrong, but I hope not. This thing had solid support in both houses of the legislature. There was no squeaker vote. It's his job to sign it and send it on through.

Now according to my understanding of things, bills passed by the Legislature become law 90 days after the Legislature adjourns, which in this case is scheduled for June 17. 90 days after June 17 is September 16, which is a Tuesday.

Our wedding is planned for September 19. At one p.m., here in paradise.

It's going to be an informal, casual event. Potluck, outdoors if the weather is nice, Hawaiian shirts all around. Bring a lawn chair.

Of course, this is all hopeful. Tentative.

There is a very real possibility that the implementation of this law will be postponed by the courts pending the outcome of a "people's veto" referendum. Signatures are being gathered already to repeal this law. Maine has a very liberal referendum process. They only need to get 55,000 signatures to put it on the ballot.If they get the signatures before the end of the summer, it could be on the November ballot. Otherwise, it would have to wait until next June.

Honestly, I really don't want this to go to referendum. It's stupid and wasteful and moronic to put the rights of a minority to a vote of the majority. I just want to marry my sweetheart and bore you all with stories of the preparations. I just want us to gather among friends and family, exchange vows and rings, and then cook burgers and maybe have some native corn on the cob. That would be nice. That really doesn't need a referendum, I think.

Keep your fingers crossed. And it goes without saying that if you're asked to sign, please decline. Thanks.

And the beat (bill) goes on...

Correction. A friend of mine who happens to be an ordained minister has told me that ministers do NOT have to be notary publics to do weddings "You have to be either a notary or an "ordained minister of the gospel" or a "cleric"." I stand corrected. I often sit corrected, too.

Everybody and their uncle seems to be writing about Maine's L.D. 1020 and its progress in the legislature. Forgive me, but it's on my mind, too, so you're going to hear about it again.

The marriage equality bill came out of committee with a 11-2 ought to pass recommendation to the full legislature and it could face its first vote in the Maine Senate as early as tomorrow. Holy shit. That's fast. I guess they want to get it done and gone so they can get to work on the budget, which is a total nightmare.

I am hearing that the Senate has some members who think it might be a good idea to put the thing directly out to a referendum. What bullshit. That does nothing more than save them from having to make a tough choice. It would be much easier if their voters kicked the queers in the teeth than if they had to do it publicly than to make the more difficult choice and do what they know is right and support the bill.

We have a representative form of government. That means we elect people to represent us in Augusta. We volunteer for the job, and we elect them. Their job is to sit through the hearings, listen to the testimony, learn as much about an issue as they possibly can, and form an educated opinion about it. I don't want to care about the regulations having to do with lake levels or organic chickens, or tree growth or urban sprawl. I want my elected representatives to do their jobs and represent the interests of me and my community. That doesn't seem so tough, now does it?

Feh.

And our governor is being a first class cowardly dickhead for suggesting that the referendum thing might be a good idea. Since when is it a good idea to put the civil rights of a minority out to a vote of the majority? Certainly a fair number of decent, like-minded, progressive straight folks will vote to give us marriage rights, but most people, in the solitude of the voting booth, will mark the box that says "No, not for them." It is the cowardice that comes with anonymity. They don't have to look their gay, lesbian, bi, or trans neighbors, co-workers or family members in the eye and say "you don't deserve the same rights as me." They can hide behind the secret ballot. And they do. And I fear they still will.

I wrote a column for this week's paper. If you live in Hancock County, Maine, find a copy of the Mount Desert Islander and pick it up. I'll offer the rough draft of what I sent in here. I haven't seen the paper yet, but I have been assured that it got in with nice placement.

It's okay. It's only love.

Last week, I went with a group of friends from Hancock County to Augusta for the public hearing before the Joint Legislative Committee on the Judiciary of L.D. 1020 An Act To End Discrimination In Civil Marriage And to Preserve Religious Freedom. There were almost three dozen of us on the rented bus, we left very early and spent a very, very long day listening to testimony.

It makes for a grinding day listening to people give reasons why I deserve fewer, or different rights than them. It makes for stomach pains and pounding headaches to hear people accuse me and my community of horrible atrocities that are simply false and outrageous.

I live in Otter Creek with my partner. We have been together for seven years and we would very much like to be married. I am not asking for a gold-plated Cadillac, I just want the same rights and responsibilities that my parents have.

I’d like to know that we have the security that comes with marriage. That if I am injured in an accident that the hospital will take the word of my spouse regarding my medical decisions instead of that of my estranged father who suffers from Alzheimer’s Disease. As it stands now, legally, he has more rights to those kinds of decisions than she does. That’s not right.

Many of the people who spoke against the bill cited faith-based justifications for their feelings. One of the best parts of this bill is that no church, ever, will be asked to perform a marriage ceremony that goes against its teachings.

The process for getting married first begins at the town office with a piece of paper billed as “INTENTION OF MARRIAGE”. There are sections for the bride and groom to fill out, and it is returned and a marriage license is issued. In order for the couple to be married, they must exchange vows and swear their “I do’s” in front of two witnesses AND AN AGENT OF THE STATE. A notary public must certify and sign the marriage license for the marriage to be legal.

Many clergy are notary publics, which is why they will say “but the power vested in me by the State of Maine, I now pronounce you…”

My argument is this: Why are clergy doing Ceasar’s work? Why is a government-issued contract being certified in a church?

Yes, a marriage can be a holy thing. In the Catholic Church where I grew up, indeed it is a sacrament. But people can get married without any clergy present at all. Non-believers can stand up in front of a town clerk or a notary anywhere they choose and be married. Churches already don’t have to marry couples if they don’t want to. A Catholic and a Jew would not be married in either a synagogue or a Cathedral, yet they can be married. Why not, then, my partner and me?

I am not asking the Catholic Church of my childhood to perform the service; I have a Notary Public already picked out who has said he will be glad to perform our wedding. His name is Dennis Damon. He’s our State Senator, and he introduced this bill that will allow us to marry.

The legislative process is not speedy, but it is resolute. The bill went to a work session and was voted out of committee this week overwhelmingly “ought to pass” and is headed for a vote in the Maine Senate next week or the week after, depending on scheduling. After that it will go to the Maine House, led by our own estimable Hannah Pingree, then back to the Senate, once more through the House, and to the Governor’s desk for his signature to become law.

Along this path, there are opportunities for legislators to introduce amendments and this and that. Usually, on a piece of legislation as volatile as this, there is a movement to send it out to referendum. To do that would be wrong in so many ways it boggles my mind.

I voted for people whom I want to go to Augusta, sit through the hearings, do the homework, educate themselves on the issues and then vote in the best interests of the people in their districts. I did not send someone down there to be an empty barrel into which I can shout to be heard. I voted for people with brains and guts, and I expect them to use both when considering this legislation. Vote it up or vote it down, but don’t weasel around and try to avoid taking a stand. Legislators should state their positions and cast their votes. Elsie Fleming and Dennis Damon will do just that. All the others? Well, there’s no telling.

The civil rights of a minority ought never to have to pass the gauntlet of a statewide referendum vote. Imagine if the Emancipation Proclamation were put to a referendum… how many white voters would have freed slaves? Some would have voted for it, certainly, but not the majority. We had much more growing to do as a nation before we would (or will) achieve anything remotely resembling racial equality.

A referendum will be exhaustive and expensive. Millions will be spent on each side. Think what positive things we could do with that money instead of fighting a prolonged, nasty referendum fight. How many beds could be bought for domestic violence shelters? How many groceries could be bought for a food pantry? How many affordable housing units could be built with what will be spent on a referendum? We’ve got more important things to argue about in Maine right now – like the gaping hole in the budget – than whether two people who love each other should have the right to enter into a civil marriage and be treated like everyone else.

L.D. 1020 is about fairness in the civil sphere and freedom in the religious sphere. It will allow citizens to go into the town office and get a marriage license, and it will reaffirm the right of all churches to say “no, thank you” to any couple they do not want to marry. It’s time, Maine. It’s time for equality.

An emotional meat grinder

Correction: a thoughtful and astute reader brought to my attention an error in this piece. I said that it felt as though we were marching to Selma. In fact, Dr. King's march went FROM Selma, TO Montgomery. The error and ignorance is mine and is accepted. I have fixed the text here. Thank you for teaching me. ~D

That's what it was Wednesday at the public hearing before the Maine Joint Legislative Judiciary Committee in Augusta. The bill in question is LD 1020, An Act To End Discrimination In Civil Marriage and Preserve Religious Freedom. Or something like that. You get the idea. It's a bill that will allow L and I to get married.

The first part of the legislative process after a bill is submitted and printed is the public hearing. This is when any and all concerned citizens can comment about a bill if they so choose. With a topic as controversial as marriage equality, you can bet that emotions run high on both sides, and LOTS of people want to weigh in and be heard. Regrettably, not all of them are sane.

We'll get to that part in a little bit. Because this story really has a couple of stories in it. Like many great battles, this one started with an epic journey. Unlike other epic journeys, ours started with a big yellow bus and a case of nervous insomnia.

The night before the hearing, I collected the bus from its home in Ellsworth and brought it here so it would be ready in the morning. Our first scheduled pick-up was at 4 a.m. at the Bar Harbor Town Pier. I backed the monstrosity into our yard over the protestations of our landlord and parked it. It was longer than our whole cottage. Lunches and bottled water were stored on the bus, an early supper was made and eaten and I was in bed by around 8 pm.

Only I couldn't sleep. My alarm was set for 2:40 a.m. to allow me time for a good breakfast, a shower, plenty of time to get the bus warmed up and the heaters going and then be at the pier by 3:45. I tossed. I turned. I looked at the clock about every half hour. Until sometime after midnight, when I apparently fell asleep. Until I woke up at 3:35 and began screaming. After more screaming and rushing around, we got the bus started, coffee made, clothes on and were at the town pier by just a minute or two past the deadline to pick up passengers. A dozen or more got on and settled in. Next stop was at the local liberal college, where we picked up two bleary, damp young women (it was raining buckets) who likewise settled in and got comfy. Next stop was Ellsworth, where we picked up another batch of people and some donuts and coffee. We left there a little behind schedule, but still picked up two women in Belfast and made it to Augusta before 7:30 a.m. Our goal had been for 7, so we weren't that far off the mark.

When we got there, the parking lot was already filling up. We pulled up to the front entrance of the Augusta Civic Center and Laura and the gal from the Hancock County Democrats piled out with the flag and the people began to disembark. Here's what it looked like. (Laura is on the right.)


Thanks to my friend Darlene for providing this picture via facebook. I snagged it and will have to tell her about it soon, but here it is.

Organizers had told supporters to wear red. Take a look at this video, blurry and wobbly as it is, of what we saw.



If that did not work for you, take a look at these still shots. Honestly, the place looked like opening day at Fenway Park.

Can you believe this? More than one of us was moved to tears at this display. I had to leave the auditorium several times. It was more than I could handle emotionally. We outnumbered our opponents by something like 4 or 5 to 1. Here's the bigger picture:



That's an awful lot of red. And remember what I said about Fenway Park on opening day? Well, there were a few pockets of the crowd that were obviously Yankees fans. Here they are:

They just did not look happy. Take a look:


So there we all were, upwards of 3,000 people in an auditorium. For endless hours the two sides offered up speakers supporting their positions. Our side told countless stories of how we have been discriminated against in some pretty basic and pretty fundamental ways. Widowers who were not allowed to sign mortuary paperwork to have their partner's bodies taken for burial. People denied access to loved ones in the hospital, people denied access to their partner's funeral. It was a horror show of hurt followed by a horror show of hate. Opponents argued that to allow same sex couples to marry would allow us unfettered access to children to molest. Our love was compared to bestiality. One man asked if we might next be asking for permission to marry multiple partners, or perhaps our dogs.

No shit. People said this stuff out loud, and to the Joint Legislative Committee on the Judiciary. These were not the drunken musings of rednecks at deer camp. These were professional people in suits and ties, ministers wearing mixed fabric clothing. They said this stuff with all seriousness and earnestness. They believe it. They believe I want to fuck their children. They believe I want to have sex with animals. They believe that I am sick, that I need treatment and prayer. They believe that I deserve fewer and different rights than they enjoy. And they believe that they are right and I am wrong.

It felt like we were marching from Selma to Birmingham, in spirit if not in reality. We marched along, heads high, eyes forward, speaking our truth. We did not cat-call. We did not accuse our opponents of nasty things. When they were inaccurate, we offered legitimate, verifiable documentation to support our side. When they got nasty, we did not engage. When they got really nasty, we stood and turned our backs in silent protest. It was a powerful thing to see. Take a look:

The thing dragged on and on. Our side marched carefully, gently, truthfully on, their side grew more shrill and more crazy as the day wore on. It was difficult to sit through the things that they were saying about us. It always is. When I call it an emotional meat grinder, I am not kidding. Each side had a half hour for speakers. Each speaker was limited to three minutes of testimony. For 30 minutes we would hear our stories of discrimination and denied rights. Then for 30 minutes we would hear accusations of inhumanity. It makes for a very, very long day.

The hearing wore on into the evening. There was no lunch break. The committee took a dinner break at 5:45, which we took as our cue to head on home. Three of our members spoke before we left: dear and wonderful Diana and Kay:


And longtime civil rights and peace activist Dan Lourie. His granddaughter has two moms, he told the committee.


That's the local UU minister over on the left in this image. She's pretty cool.

But this report is not complete without some real disclosure of a personal nature. No, not that personal, but personal just the same. Until this time, I have kept my face out of my blog. I have identified my partner only as L and have never shown her face. But this is a fight that is very personal to me. We'd like to get married. My name is really Dawn. Her name is Laura. This is what we look like.


And we'd like to get married. I'm 43 at this writing, and she is 32. We've been together for 7 years. Our friends Diana and Kay have been together 20 years. They give us hope for our future. They are lively and wonderful and completely in love with life and each other. We'd like to be like that. We'd like to be happy in our senior years. We'd like the security that comes with marriage, to know that her family will not throw me out of the hospital if I have to visit her there. To know that doctors won't deny me access, or that we'll have to deal with any of the usual kinds of health care and bureaucratic bullshit that comes with being partnered but not married.

This fight is far from over. We're in it to win, and we're in it for the long haul. And that means stepping up and putting my face where my words are. This is us. This law will affect our lives. Not some nebulous, theoretical people somewhere. Us. It is important. This matters. It is very, very personal.

Riding the bus

OK, so many of you know that my State Senator, Dennis Damon (D-Trenton) has introduced a thing called LD 1020 "An Act to end Discrimination in Civil Marriage and Preserve Religious Freedom. It is a bill that would define marriage as a civil contract between two consenting adults, regardless of gender. It would also allow religious institutions to retain the right to refuse to marry any couple that does not meet their own requirements. (Catholics do this now, refusing to marry people who have been previously married and divorced, or couples where neither person is Catholic. I presume other churches have similar restrictions.) It would also make it so that Maine recognizes any marriage performed in any other state (including same-sex marriages).

Dennis is a brave, amazing guy. He made my heroes list a couple years ago when he was instrumental in passing legislation to allow adults who were adopted in Maine access to their original birth records, including the names of their birth parents. Now he has done this. Straight, with grown kids, he has been a teacher, coach and entrepreneur. His wife still teaches in public schools. All-American stuff.

And since he proposed this bill in the legislature, he has been the target of some pretty nasty stuff. Hate speech directed at him and his family. Public insinuations about his manliness and/or sexual orientation. Death threats. All-around nastiness. And he has remained steadfast. Bless his heart.

But this post was not supposed to be about Dennis. Well, maybe a little bit, toward the end. This is a post about marriage and a bus.

See, a friend of ours (K) who is a local mover and shaker in liberal political circles was charged with delivering 100 supporters of the bill to its public hearing before the legislative committee designated to hear it (probably the Judiciary Committee). Both sides will be out in force for this thing, and our side needs not only articulate speakers, but bodies in seats. The rules are pretty strict - no placards or signs, no cheering, no cat-calls, no misbehavin' of any kind. Seating is limited to 900 people, with the proceedings being simulcast to monitors in a second auditorium where more seating will be available. The show begins at 9:30 a.m. and is expected to go until 8:30 p.m. I have no idea if there will be a break. It will be a long, emotionally charged, exhausting day.

And our organizers are telling us to be at the auditorium (at Cony High School in Augusta) at 7 a.m. in order to be sure we will get in and get decent seats. They're also telling us to wear red to make a visible show of support.

So K and I got talking and L chimed in with a reminder that we actually know somebody who owns a bus. Like a real bus. A big bus. OK, an old school bus, but still. It's more than a Volkswagen microbus. It's more than a 12-seat university van, it's more than the old 16 passenger bus I used to drive. It's a 56-seat behemoth of a thing. And yeah, it's yellow.

So I called the gal, E, who owns the bus. Actually, E and her partner own a cab and hired car/transportation service. They have vans and SUVs and even TWO buses. Very cool. Could she give us a price? Sure!

Oh, and could I drive it, please?

You want what?

Hire me, I said. Put me on for one day. I won't even ask for pay, to keep our costs down, and I'll clean it out when we're done.

There was a very long pause.

Are you still driving for company X? No.

You still have your license, though? Oh, yes!

Is it clean? Like a whistle! I'm really quite boring, you know... (hush you!)

What are you doing for work now? I'm a self-employed contractor.

Really? So, like, your time is pretty much your own, then, right? Um, yeah. Pretty much.

I'm short one or two bus drivers and I have some shifts that need coverage. Think you could do them?





{in this long silence, I understood exactly what was being offered here in trade: You want to drive this bus bad enough? Bail me out of these shifts and I'll make it happen.}




(deep breath) sure. What have you got?

Well, kids, Dawn is taking one for the team.

Remember how much I like children, right? Yeah. Well, this company has the contract with a local school to transport their athletic teams to and from events. I will be bringing kids to a track meet, a tennis match, and a softball game. Three shifts, each probably a minimum of six hours, and I get to also drive the bus to Augusta for the hearing.

Now for the extremely local part of this post.

• This all happens on Friday, April 24, 2009.

• We will be leaving very early and probably staying until around 6 p.m. before heading for home. That means you might not get back to your car until 8 or 9 p.m., perhaps later.

• If you live in Hancock County, Maine and want to ride on this bus, you can contact me at bbginanp (at) roadrunner (dot) com and say "I want to ride the bus" in the subject line. It will cost $15 per person and will include a box lunch.

• There will be three places you can catch the bus. We depart the Bar Harbor town pier at 4 a.m. We have the OK to park cars on the pier for the whole day. We go to College of the Atlantic and pick up passengers at the whale's skull. We depart COA at 4:15 a.m. and head to Ellsworth.

• We pick up passengers at the Ellsworth High School (yes, you can park there all day) and depart there at 5 a.m. SHARP. We will be travelling down Route 3 and might pick up people in Belfast if they request it. (Probably in the Reny's parking lot, and probably at around 6 a.m.)

• YOU MUST RESERVE A SEAT if you want to ride. We are expecting to fill the bus to capacity. You can pay when you board the bus. There is a reduced price for high school kids.
  

Now back to the cool part about Dennis Damon.

When we were in Augusta recently for that tradeswomen's conference, we stopped over to the state house to visit our local delegation. We got to visit and chat with our House Rep, check out her seat in the chambers and stand behind the speaker's podium (wicked cool!). We also tried to find Dennis, but he was out of the building shuttling between meetings. The nice lady in the Senate Majority office found him via phone for me, though, and handed me the receiver so I could chat with him. I thanked him for his bravery and for the good work he's doing. And then I asked if he was a notary public. In fact, he is.

Well then, I said. When this is all over, will you marry L and I?

Yes, he said, he'd be glad to perform our ceremony.

So sometime soon, perhaps this summer, even, L and I could very well be getting married. Like for real. Legally and everything. It's big. It's huge. And it is not something I ever imagined I'd see in my lifetime.

It will probably be in the park (Acadia). It will absolutely be potluck. There might be volleyball or softball or Frisbee. There will certainly be dogs. There won't be alcohol, but there will be fun. And most importantly, there will be love and laughter and good times. Because that's what families and marriages are all about. Love and tears and laughter and togetherness.

Dennis rocks, don't you think? He's gotten a real rash of shit over this thing. Do me a favor and send him a note thanking him for being such a good guy, would you? Here's the link to E-MAIL SENATOR DAMON. Remember to mention LD 1020 and thank him for being so great, hmm?

Thanks.