Will It Never End?

Trey took this picture last week of my wedding gift in progress. It was supposed to be 5 feet by 6 feet, and clearly using size 10s instead of 8s makes a MASSIVE DIFFERENCE. But it is beautiful and it feels softer and softer as it grows. I will start section 20 of FIFTY-FIVE fucking sections this afternoon, surreptitiously, under my desk. I lug it around in a Duane Reade bag (knows as Lillet Vuitton in our house) and look like a crazy lady.

Last week was lovely -- we went to the Mermaid Parade and held a yard sale in front of our house, which was super fun. We made $250 and drank beer all day, and Trey listened to the Mets on his handheld little radio. We met nice people (Guido and his wife) and rude, crazy people (like the guy who angrily tried to talk me down to three dollars from for for a brand new iron. Umm, no. And now that you are being a dick about it, double-no.)

A woman in her late fifties stopped by early in the day: grey bob, worn green canvas shopping bag with an environmental slogan on it, Birks with socks. She took a long time poking through my costume jewelry and finally asked me to model a necklace (from the 1930s, a mesh of apricot-glazed metal tiles.) She said it was for her daughter, she was looking for things for her. It turned out her daughter lived in Portland, Oregon; was an anti war activist, did other community work, and traveled a lot to Central America. As she told me this, she looked at more and more of the clothes: would choose a piece, pay for it, and put it into her shopping bag to send to her daughter.

This killed me, having been the recipient of so much unwanted-at-the-time crap from my mom over the years: tights from Marshalls, stuff from yard sales, "clothes for just bumming around." Watching this woman linger over my castoffs with excruciating care was like watching my own mom miss me, shopping somewhere, alone.

And one day that will be me. Hungering for a connection with my child, and possibly angering the fuck out of her. Being categorically WRONG, other, unwanted.

I worried about the woman. Maybe her daughter is nicer than I was? Maybe she loves getting yard sale clothes from her mom? What if the mom sent her too much stuff and felt bad? What could I do? Nothing.

"You must be very proud of your daughter," I said.

Her smile was shy and radiant. "Yes, I am. She turned out to be a very kind person. Yes, I am."

This Malabrigo Afghan Is Kicking My Ass!

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Love Is Love Is Love

Via Dispatches From The Culture Wars, here is Mildred Loving's public statement on the 40th anniversary of Loving vs. Virginia, posted in full.

Loving for All

By Mildred Loving

Prepared for Delivery on June 12, 2007,
The 40th Anniversary of the Loving vs. Virginia Announcement

When my late husband, Richard, and I got married in Washington, DC in 1958, it wasn't to make a political statement or start a fight. We were in love, and we wanted to be married.

We didn't get married in Washington because we wanted to marry there. We did it there because the government wouldn't allow us to marry back home in Virginia where we grew up, where we met, where we fell in love, and where we wanted to be together and build our family. You see, I am a woman of color and Richard was white, and at that time people believed it was okay to keep us from marrying because of their ideas of who should marry whom.

When Richard and I came back to our home in Virginia, happily married, we had no intention of battling over the law. We made a commitment to each other in our love and lives, and now had the legal commitment, called marriage, to match. Isn't that what marriage is?

Not long after our wedding, we were awakened in the middle of the night in our own bedroom by deputy sheriffs and actually arrested for the "crime" of marrying the wrong kind of person. Our marriage certificate was hanging on the wall above the bed. The state prosecuted Richard and me, and after we were found guilty, the judge declared: ""Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix." He sentenced us to a year in prison, but offered to suspend the sentence if we left our home in Virginia for 25 years exile.

We left, and got a lawyer. Richard and I had to fight, but still were not fighting for a cause. We were fighting for our love.

Though it turned out we had to fight, happily Richard and I didn't have to fight alone. Thanks to groups like the ACLU and the NAACP Legal Defense & Education Fund, and so many good people around the country willing to speak up, we took our case for the freedom to marry all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. And on June 12, 1967, the Supreme Court ruled unanimously that, "The freedom to marry has long been recognized as one of the vital personal rights essential to the orderly pursuit of happiness by free men," a "basic civil right."

My generation was bitterly divided over something that should have been so clear and right. The majority believed that what the judge said, that it was God's plan to keep people apart, and that government should discriminate against people in love. But I have lived long enough now to see big changes. The older generation's fears and prejudices have given way, and today's young people realize that if someone loves someone they have a right to marry.

Surrounded as I am now by wonderful children and grandchildren, not a day goes by that I don't think of Richard and our love, our right to marry, and how much it meant to me to have that freedom to marry the person precious to me, even if others thought he was the "wrong kind of person" for me to marry. I believe all Americans, no matter their race, no matter their sex, no matter their sexual orientation, should have that same freedom to marry. Government has no business imposing some people's religious beliefs over others. Especially if it denies people's civil rights.

I am still not a political person, but I am proud that Richard's and my name is on a court case that can help reinforce the love, the commitment, the fairness, and the family that so many people, black or white, young or old, gay or straight seek in life. I support the freedom to marry for all. That's what Loving, and loving, are all about.

OMG! Could It "B"?

That I have been Smooved? Actual MySpace message from June 13, 2007:

hi

I must admit the sights of your pictures are breath taking. I am trying to find that word that will get such a beautiful, sexy woman as your self to respond I hope you do not mine me referring to you in such a manner. I would love to be allotted the chance to get to know you on a more personal note. Once more I am in no way trying to disrespectful but you are one of GODS most beautiful and sexiest woman. God has ever blessed man kind with. I am hoping these words allow me the chance of getting to know you better more like in person one day. May I ask how I can be allotted the pleasure of getting to know you better?

Repeat Until Your Lap Is Full, Knitter

My sister's wedding gift, I hope: the Rambling Rows afghan in Malabrigo, the Peruvian flake of fibers.

Image from the scanner at work because it is dead here today.