Fragile Industries

Going Off the Rez....

 

I'm going away for a week.

I  have had a 12+ hour day getting the home front in order before I leave.  For Mom: O2 deliveries, food run, a bunch of tupperwares for Mom's meals carefully labeled, along with toting 6 (count 'em, 6) liters of Smirnoff upstairs (moi?  an enabler?), directions for cat meds written out, along with lists of phone numbers for everything from my cel phone to the vet to a helpful neighbor, copies of my itinerary.  Lori the White Trash Cleaning Lady is in thrall to Mom and will be here for a few hours every day, so all should be well.

Then the pre-packing: more tupperware to take with me, containing lots of wiccan herbs and crystals and special sachets and god knows what, so that I can cleanse and purify the farm.  20+ acres.  There will be a full cleansing, a sage smudging with outdoor burning of aromatics (lavender, rosemary, eucalyptus, from my own garden, plus bunches and bunches of purchased sage), plus homemade and sewn purification sachets and bath teas -- then a chicken baked with sage, lavender, rosemary --- herbs d' provance ... did witchcraft influence French cuisine?

 

Then crating a fragile but adorable lamp for grandbaby that I hope makes the trip (LOTS of styrofoam and bubble wrap), books, dog chews, cat treats, sex toys (My farmer is so cute!  He found a toy shoppe in Minneapolis and ordered ahead, there will be a parcel to pick up on the way from the airport -- the advantages of an Asbergian lover is they focus so wonderfully) and if I'm lucky I can pack some clothes.  Those seem optional.

 

I'm more worried about leaving my lush garden than Mom or the cats.  With my assiduous care, 12 gorgeous plants in pots stand on the 3d floor deck, with silk flowers staked alongside and wire-mounted to branches (like that's going to fool anyone)  -- they are a marvel.  Less than 8 weeks from seed, and they are 3'+ tall and 3' wide, bursting with rude good health.  I pray they don't start blooming while I'm gone, I have to murder the boys once they show themselves.  I've gone over the top with organic nutrients and pest control, I have a sensor for light, alkaline-acid balance and watering, I have named every leaf.

 

And now they're on their own for 8 days.  I've explained it to them, they nod their green heads, but I wonder if they really understand that today's soaking, feeding and massage is the last for a while.  Oh yeah, they call them weeds, but these are the most pampered plants in the universe.

 

Thursday, we had a bit of excitement -- a woman was brutally murdered about 2 blocks away.  There may be a serial killer on the loose in My Little Town -- the crime was nearly identical to the brutal murder (I'm just copying the "Breaking News" lingo -- "brutal murder" is what makes it to CNN, as these have) of a couple living about 4 miles up the coast on Faria Beach.  So of course I'm triple-checking locks and windows, but the real threat were all the news and police helicopters hovering within view of the deck.  That's when I got the silk flowers out.  Bless our sweet neighbors -- two came by to remind us to lock up carefully at night.  I think Mom and I are on the list of The Crazy Ladies We Love on Kingston Lane. 

 

All this will wash away once I'm in the pleasant, cow-fucking land of Minnesota.

 

I can't wait to see what happens.

 

See ya in a week or two.

 

Jerry Brown, Hero

Jerry Brown today declared before the California Supreme Court that Prop. 8 is indefensible.

Now, for the non-legal-wonks among us, let me explain: Jerry Brown currently serves as the Attorney General for the State of California.  In this post, his job is to defend the validly-enacted bills, laws, etc. against challenges.  He's the Great Big Daddy, as elected, of The Status Quo.  He's the Lawyer for the State.

This is also, we must remember, the man who is the son of a Great Big Daddy of California gubernatorial history, Pat Brown, Democrat governor of California in the '60's.  In My Home Town (also home of the American Nazi Party, where every property deed carried a racially restrictive covenant and all the "colored" housekeepers had to get home before nightfall) I remember lawn signs that read (and I apologize for the toilet humor) "If it's Brown, Flush It Down."  Pat Brown was hardly a fringe progressive; he was a standard-bearer for the standard Democrat Party.  A few years later, in 1974, if I recall, his son Jerry succeeded him for Governor.  It was the first election where I could cast a ballot.

Jerry was further left than his dad and the papers called him "Governor Moonbeam."  He was seen as a hopeless idealist hippie wannabe, rejected the governor's manse for a monastic apartment, rejected the gas-guzzling governor's limo for an economy car.  Now it all makes sense, but 30+ years ago, this was dangerous extremism.  After the Reagan Revolution, Jerry packed his bags for years in the wilderness, more recently served some very common-sense years doing great things as mayor of Oakland, and now is in the position of Attorney General for the state, a sort of elder statesman with a conscience.

And God bless him, he has one.  I thought it richly ironic that he would have to defend a hateful, bigoted enactment, given his sensibilities.  I never thought that he would pursue the higher road that is theoretically available to him as the highest lawyer (if not law) in the state.  Prosecutors have this out in criminal trials, too.  They speak for the State -- supposedly the voice for truth and justice, not a conviction at any cost, but rarely is that moral imperative placed higher than the batting average of convictions.

Here's what he had to say about Prop. 8: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/12/19/MN6514RNVU.DTL&type=politics&tsp=1

Who knew that the first vote I ever cast, in 1974, would be so richly rewarded?  Good for you, Jerry.

My latest Prop. 8 Rants

Two domestically-committed lesbians, residents of Pasadena, CA, are walking to San Francisco to protest the passage of Prop. 8 and urge its repeal.  Their website is here:

http://www.revoke8.com/

They tell their story, day by day, with little miracles of support, press coverage, offers of shelter, foot rubs, here:

http://www.revoke8.blogspot.com/

Paget and Jones invite, on their website, personal messages to be delivered to the CA Supremes upon their arrival at the State Building in SF.  I know, from having worked for that institution in that building, that my message, in the majesty of THE LAW, is just the sound of flies buzzing at the window screen, irrelevant, unheard.  It holds no weight.

Nonetheless, I drafted my own message/vote for support of Paget and Jones and their cause, and played the "I-used-to-work-for-you" card.  In addition, it is the shorthand version of what I hope they hear from their more credentialed sources.  Here's my message:

To the Chief Justice and Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the State of California:

 

In 1835, Alexis de Toqueville warned that the primary danger of the electoral process in the United States was what he presciently termed, "the tyranny of the majority": those occasions when the majority might use its strength in government to ride roughshod over the rights of minorities. Such a tyranny seemed to Tocqueville the most likely to occur and thus the greatest danger of the untrammeled power of the electorate.

In this last election in California, we observed this very process at work.  A bare majority of the populace, inflamed by misleading advertising bought by out-of-state religious interests, voted to overturn a right found by this court to be irrefutable, an element of basic human dignity -- the right to join in matrimony with the person one loves.  In this recent election, Proposition 8 sought to change the basic framework of California's legal process, its Constitution, in a way to disenfranchise a minority.

 

The process of democracy in this state and this country has not depended on the endorsement of a slim majority to recognize the rights of those who historically have been denied rights.  The advancement of this country has in fact been based on those who give voice to the oppressed, even when that voice could have been drowned out by louder, more strident repression.  It is respectfully submitted to the Court that its recognition of a basic human right of marriage was one of those historical voices, and the attempt to drown out that decision should not be the last voice heard.

 

When it comes to the precious freedoms enshrined in the California Constitution, long respected as the broadest and most inclusive charter in this nation, a bare majority of an artificially-influenced electorate should not be determinative of minority rights.  This is not a mere procedural amendment, but an attempt to silence the still small voice of decency, of basic human dignity.  This, I submit, is a wholesale overhaul of this state's processes, which if allowed, could lead to unimaginable abuses.

 

I speak as one affected, with a small voice.  I speak as a former worker from among your ranks.  I speak as one who wishes, with all her heart, that this state's historical record of the protection of the minority, will continue in this and other instances of the tyranny of the majority.

 

Respectfully submitted,

[Fragile Industries' Real Name]

Former Senior Research Attorney, Civil Central Staff, California Supreme Court

 

 

Fight the H8 Protest in My Little Town

    

Sorry about the tiny photo at left, but it's the best I can do with a stolen Flickr image -- there seems to be some restriction in the code against re-sizing.  Click the thumbnail for the original.  And by the way, that's me front and center, with the hat and the "Support Love Not H8 - Repeal Prop. 8" sign.  The rainbow flurry over my shoulder is from two flags that are souveneirs from the March on Washington in April, 1993, as was the t-shirt I wore.  They've held up better than I have.  Some of those marching were younger than my shirt.  

Yesterday, as fires blazed out of control all around SoCal (but not here), at least 600 people gathered in my sleepy, conservative little town to protest the passage of Prop. 8.  It was the largest demonstration of any kind I've ever seen here.  At 10:30 am we gathered at City Hall, and about 200 marched down both sides of the main street to this park.  There, many hundreds more joined us and we spread up and down the block in front of the local mission, on both sides of the street.  At least half the passing cars responded to the "honk for love" signs, each honk eliciting cheers from everyone.  We shouted and hollered the call-and-response "What do you want?" "EQUAL RIGHTS!" "When do you want it?" "NOW!" and "Gay, straight, black, white, marriage is an equal right!" and that sort of thing.  Then we circled the town, a five-block long throng twice walking on freeway overpasses, where our signs and rainbow flags signaled more honks from the speeding travelers.

There was no opposition at all, except for a few flipped birds from passing cars, or mutters of "The election is over, you lost" from doorways we passed on our march.  One woman, seated with her picture perfect hubby and 2.5 kids at a patio restaurant, smiled and responded, "It's not about hate, it's about FAITH!"  Faith in what, I wanted to ask, but as they say, "The dogs bark, but the parade moves on."

Those were the exceptions.  Nearly every reaction was positive.  Even some of the passing cops (and they did patrol us repeatedly) honked, as did several city bus drivers.  I was startled by a giant white SUV with "Homeland Security" in big official letters on the side which passed back and forth slowly a few times.  "We're not terrorists, we're just queer!" we shouted.  On its last pass, the SUV honked.  Amazing.  Clearly, the official presence wanted to protect US from ugliness, not the other way around. 

At the town's one and only openly gay bar nearby, many gathered after the bulk of the group disbanded at 2pm.  The bar offered a free shot to anyone who showed their sign.  Among the women, the shot of choice was something called a "Slippery Nipple."  Heavy on the Bailey's, it was, er... slippery.  And hella sweet.  I stuck with my Corona and chatted for about an hour.  I had never visited the bar before, thinking it was a total boy's club.  Yesterday, there were more women than men.

One couple told me they were running late and arrived at the park after the march had moved on, but a cop told them, "If you cut across to Chestnut Street, you can catch them."  I may just have to change my mind about My Little Town.

A number of straight people marched with us, and there were many kids with homemade signs reading "I love my 2 moms" or "Why can't my auntie (or uncle, or big brother) get married?"

I've got news for the mutterers: The election may be over, but we haven't lost.  Those kids give me hope. 

PS: Found another Flickr image that let me use it.  Me, in hat (natch) showing the cool rainbow on the other side of the sign.  Hey, does this rainbow make me look fat?

 

AND ANOTHER THING: Interesting article on a potential US Constitutional challenge to Prop. 8 that just might fly in the federal courts.  As a lawyer who doesn't trust her own kind, however, I see many nits that could be picked about the similarity of the precedent.  The legal seas on this issue are largely uncharted.  Hope someone tries the argument anyway.