Challenger accident 25th anniversary

Has it really been 25 years? Wow! I still remember that morning vividly. My class was all gathered, sitting on the barely carpeted floor of a half-circle room with four stepped tiers so we could see over each-other's heads. In the middle of the room was an aged television on a metallic rolling cart. It was such an exciting day for some reason. I knew that the space shuttle had been launched many times before, but this one was special. There was something unique this time and it had all of our teachers very excited. I didn't understand the details but instead of a lecture we got to watch the shuttle launch live and that was fine with me!

I don't really remember seeing the explosion live as the memory is mushed together with all of the replays and news coverage, but I do remember the emotions of the day. We were very confused as to what happened and what it meant. I can't even imagine the struggles of our teachers trying to deal with their own emotions while keeping control of rowdy kids and trying to make sure we weren't scarred for life.

After we got shuffled back to the classroom and settled down, my Mom arrived and pulled me out of the class to talk. She was so upset. She sat me down and explained that my grandfather could have been on that shuttle and that extremely talented scientists had died. My grandfather, John Barainca, had applied to the Teacher in Space program and was actually one of the top 100 considered for the slot that was eventually given to Christa McAuliffe. He had been at the launch site for the previous few days but the launch was delayed for too long and many of the teachers, including him, needed to return home to their classes.

On top of that, it was my grandmother's birthday. Happy birthday grandma! So along with all the emotion of how hard my grandfather had worked to be on that shuttle, how much he had wanted it, how exciting it was to have a teacher go to space, how disappointed grandpa was that he wasn't able to stay long enough to see the actual launch, it had also been possible that my grandmother's birthday present would have been my grandfather exploding on national television. At the time I remember thinking that it was a very sad thing but I didn't understand why my Mom took it so personally. He wasn't on the shuttle. Everything would be fine. Looking back though, I can see how it would have been just too much to take in all at once.

I'll never know if she felt I really needed to know the whole story or if she just needed someone to talk to. I think most of my childhood conversations with Mom were a little of both. I miss you Mom.

In the rain?

Our silly puppy, Coco, who is never bothered by anything is being such a princess this morning. I tried to take her out 3 times and each time she would go right to her bed on the porch as if to say "Girl, you crazy! I ain't going out in that rain. YOU go potty. I'll be here waiting where it is dry."

Keith Olbermann talks some sense

Finally tonight as promised, a Special Comment on the passage, last week, of Proposition Eight in California, which rescinded the right of same-sex couples to marry, and tilted the balance on this issue, from coast to coast.

Some parameters, as preface. This isn't about yelling, and this isn't about politics, and this isn't really just about Prop-8. And I don't have a personal investment in this: I'm not gay, I had to strain to think of one member of even my very extended family who is, I have no personal stories of close friends or colleagues fighting the prejudice that still pervades their lives.

And yet to me this vote is horrible. Horrible. Because this isn't about yelling, and this isn't about politics. This is about the human heart, and if that sounds corny, so be it. ...

With your knowledge that life, with endless vigor, seems to tilt the playing field on which we all live, in favor of unhappiness and hate... this is what your heart tells you to do? You want to sanctify marriage? You want to honor your God and the universal love you believe he represents? Then Spread happiness—this tiny, symbolic, semantical grain of happiness—share it with all those who seek it. Quote me anything from your religious leader or book of choice telling you to stand against this. And then tell me how you can believe both that statement and another statement, another one which reads only "do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

You are asked now, by your country, and perhaps by your creator, to stand on one side or another. You are asked now to stand, not on a question of politics, not on a question of religion, not on a question of gay or straight. You are asked now to stand, on a question of love. All you need do is stand, and let the tiny ember of love meet its own fate.

You don't have to help it, you don't have it applaud it, you don't have to fight for it. Just don't put it out. Just don't extinguish it. Because while it may at first look like that love is between two people you don't know and you don't understand and maybe you don't even want to know. It is, in fact, the ember of your love, for your fellow person just because this is the only world we have. And the other guy counts, too.

This is the second time in ten days I find myself concluding by turning to, of all things, the closing plea for mercy by Clarence Darrow in a murder trial.

But what he said, fits what is really at the heart of this:

"I was reading last night of the aspiration of the old Persian poet, Omar-Khayyam," he told the judge. It appealed to me as the highest that I can vision. I wish it was in my heart, and I wish it was in the hearts of all: So I be written in the Book of Love; I do not care about that Book above. Erase my name, or write it as you will, So I be written in the Book of Love."

Happily ever after

Last week something amazing and wonderful happened to me. I had the opportunity to sneak off to California and officially marry the man of my dreams! Who would have imagined a few years ago that this would be possible? At the time, I didn't believe sweet, loyal, loving, and beautiful people like Mike existed, let alone that I would meet him and we would fall in love. Seriously, Mike is the best and I am honored to share my life with him.

We had been talking for a long time about getting married and both agreed that we wanted to take that step when the time was right. We tentatively planned to tie the knot in 2009 after the elections because I didn't think I could handle having our rights stripped away after getting married if (heaven forbid) this terrible amendment passes in California. Then the LDS church yet again declared war against our happiness (see Utah Amendment 3) and began openly promoting a political agenda in CA (see Proposition 8) by encouraging its members to devote time and funds to taking away rights from Americans. We decided it no longer made sense to wait to get married. Our commitment to each other has been clear for ages and the only thing missing was the official seal of approval. We decided to take matters into our own hands and elope.

The day we married was amazing! Everywhere we went both before and after the ceremony people were friendly and helpful and it seemed the stars were aligned to make it the perfect day. The TSA agents at the airport were even friendly! I won't blog the details so I still have stories to tell around the dinner table, but know that it was perfect.

When we got home something amazing happened that I never expected. All of the important people in our lives came together in unanimous support and showered us with love and approval. If you know me well, you've probably heard me rant about the battle over same-sex marriage. For a long time I've said that I don't care about "marriage" per se and that I just want legal rights. I never took the time to really analyze the intangible value of the word marriage in our culture. As we told our families that we were married there was so much emotion and love and understanding in their eyes it startled me. Then I realized the power of this social commitment that is unique to marriage. I can scream "committed relationship", "monogamous", and "domestic partner" until I'm blue in the face and most people will just reply something like "that's nice dear" and change the subject. Now, when I say "married" there is a light that goes on in their heads, especially with others who are already married, and suddenly they are connected to you and understand your love for each other. This is a word they can relate to. This is a commitment that is not trivial, not easily broken, and has a much deeper emotional meaning than I ever gave it credit for. I now understand just how important it is that homosexual couples, who are that way from birth and did not choose it, are allowed to marry. The heterosexual world sees us as promiscuous and our relationships as fragile and fleeting, yet they fight against our right to show that we can honor and appreciate commitment as much as they can. When we are not allowed to marry, we are denied the right to proclaim our commitment to the world in a meaningful way. Domestic partnership and commitment ceremonies are second-class because of the special meaning marriage has in our culture.

This was really driven home when my dear grandfather called to convey just how proud he was of our decision to commit our lives to each other. He had somehow worried that because I spoke lightly of marriage when arguing legal rights that I didn't believe in lifelong commitment. He was sad for me because in his mind I would never get to experience the joy of true commitment. This is exactly why the fight for same-sex marriage is so important. No other phrase or substitute ceremony would have seemed real to my grandfather and he would have always considered our relationship to be temporary and less meaningful (even though he wouldn't realize he felt that way). This is an absolute tragedy. Not only would amendment 8 block a couple's right to hospital visits and rights of attorney, it would diminish the happiness available to their friends and family.

I love Mike with all my heart and I have vowed to honor and cherish him even when we're old and our bodies are falling apart. If two people love each other enough to wipe each others' butts in a retirement home when they are 90, they should have the right to meaningfully celebrate their commitment with their family and friends through marriage.

Big Harvest

It is threatening to frost this weekend so we pulled a bunch of veggies tonight to save them, but there is still probably 10x what you see here out in the yard. Hopefully they'll still be edible next week...

Which one is the elitist?

First Harvest

Here is a portion of the first harvest.