You Used to Say Live and Let Live . . .

Last night, I had the house to myself for the first time in years. Yes, years. Myself. Alone. The hubby had a gig, the older kid was at a sleepover and the little one was unexpectedly invited next door to watch a movie. OMG. What to do? I was invited to the neighbor's house for wine but decided to take advantage of this epic, possibly once-in-a-lifetime event and do something that I'm not normally allowed to do: take control of the remote.

As monkey bundled up to trudge across the front yard, I hugged him and said, "I am 100% madly, passionately in love with you. Just so you know." He replied, "I just farted. Just so YOU know." Ah, yes, it's going to be good to be home alone.

I decided to watch (finally) Milk. Not that I was surprised given the movie's rave reviews but, wow, Sean Penn's performance was unbelievable. Charming, moving, arresting, loving, inspirational and tragic.

Yet, as I watched all of the Anita Bryant footage, some of which I vaguely remember from my childhood, I couldn't help but wonder if any of my Bible study girlfriends had seen this movie. I love them but we frequently differ in our points of view. (Case in point: They wanted to get together to pray during election night while keeping Fox News on in the background. Fox News? Thanks but no thanks.)

Having grown up in a liberal, somewhat tree hugging, left-leaning family and been taught to respect others (except Richard Nixon), I bring a radically different outlook to our small group. While I listen and really do understand their point of view (i.e., that throughout the Bible, God threatens to destroy entire sin-filled cultures and we can chose to live by his laws or by ever-shifting cultural norms that increasingly accept deviant behaviors), I still have a hard time reconciling the issue -- especially when some of my close friends are gay.

I turned once to an ex-coworker and asked him to explain (which he did along the lines of the aforementioned rationale). In response, I stated, "But no one asks to be gay; they're born gay. How can that make it wrong?" He responded, "No one asks to be a child molester either. Does that make them okay, too?" Touche.

Some of my Bible-toting girlfriends would say, "Love the sinner, hate the sin." I kind of like this response because Jesus hung with prostitutes, tax collectors, etc. and he loved them. And he loves me with all of my many issues. Who is to say that anyone else's sins are greater than mine? But when I tried that line on for size with my girlfriend Laurie who lives with the love of her life, Mary, she asked, "So do you think that living my life in a committed relationship with my soul mate is really a sin?" Good question. Do I? Really? I don't think so. But the most important thing for me is the following quote from Matthew 7:5 "You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye."

In other words, I need to focus on myself and living my life in the best manner possible. The hell with everyone else (just kidding). To that point, there is a Facebook group which sums up my current leaning, "Against Gay Marriage? Then Don't Get One and Shut the F* Up."

Sounds good to me.

Gotta Keep Cool Now Gotta Take Care

Last night, as I was watching Son #2 play Guitar Hero, I happened to notice that the song Radar Love had the notation "As made famous by White Lion." Who the frig is White Lion and why not give credit where credit is due: to Golden Earring??

Son #2 explained, "Because the White Lion version is better."

I was incredulous.

A moment later he finished the song, put his guitar down and said, "My career has ended." He then asked, "Do you want to listen to both songs on iTunes or see my nose hairs?"

Those are my choices? I'll listen on iTunes.

He played them both for me and we were still divided. "Listen to that guitar lick." Nope. You can't sway me.

"I know how to settle this," he stated and logged into whichisgayer.

"White lion is officially gayer than golden earring."



As a perennial gloater, I have to say, I told you so. Now, let's check out those fascinating nose hairs.

Pack Rat

While sorting through an old box of stuff in the basement, I came across heaps of mementos including a photo of my mom on a date in the 50s in a frame that says, "Souvenir of Moroccan Village: The Gayest Spot in the Village" and "Slumming in Greenwich Village." Inside that frame was also the front page of The AMBAssador 25th Anniversary Issue (October 1953) which I'm guessing was the internal newsletter for employees of Alexanders. My mom was apparently an Alexanderite (posh name for a salesperson?) and was pictured with four other women alongside an article that states, "Alexanderites strutting proudly down the aisles of our two Bronx stores and at White Plains recently had ample reason for thrusting out their chests and boasting a bit." You go girl!

Speaking of strutting themselves, I also unearthed a picture of my dad circa 1945 with a bunch of other guys in the Navy all dressed up like (I think) girls? They're lifting their skirts (yes, you read that right) to show their boxers but also are wearing hats, garter belts on their thighs, and scarves around their necks. I'm thinking that they may have fit in better at Moroccan Village than on the U.S.S. Richmond. What happens at sea stays at sea?

In the pile, I found a bunch of my old concert tickets including the Who, the Stones, Rush, Santana, the Dead, the Lounge Lizards, Elvis Costello, UB40, Joe Jackson, Janes Addiction, Simple Minds, the Call, Tom Petty, Cheap Trick, the Plasmatics and more.

And I found a receipt from Marine Midland Bank dated March 16, 1983 where I ran into the Thompson Twins at the ATM and they all signed my bank balance ($311.68)! I also have an REO Speedwagon ticket signed by Gary Richrath and Kevin Cronin. Ah yes, you can tune a piano but you can't tuna fish.

My least favorite ticket? The Cars. I'll never forget them singing, "Can I bring you out in the light?" and flooding the War Memorial with stadium lighting. Unbelievable buzzkill. Worst ending to a concert ever. Not just what I needed.

Lastly, I found a copy of Playbill magazine circa 1984 in which Aaron Sorkin (an SU grad with whom we used to stay on our weekend trips to the city) wrote, "It was great sex! Come live with us." Aaron S. For whatever reason, his S looks more like a backwards dollar sign. (Note to mom: We didn't really have sex. It was his roommate who hit on me at the time but I feigned death. It worked.) In any event, Aaron was convinced that he would be famous one day and I believed him. Back then he was a talented writer living in a walk-up in Hell's Kitchen; now he's a talented gazillionaire living presumably in some heavenly mansion in California. Maybe I'll take him up on his offer now?!

All I Really Need to Know I Learned on The Simpson's

Son #1 has his wife picked out: a little blond girl named Sarah whom he met while in preschool. He has known that she is "the one" for years now and every once in a while he inserts her name into his nighttime prayers. One night, he asked his brother if he wanted to pray for his future wife.

Son #2: "I'm not getting married."
Son #1: "Just because you don't want to get married or are you gay?"
Son #2: "I'm not gay!"
Me: "Do you guys even know what gay means?"
Son #1: "Yeah, it's when two guys fall in love with each other."
Me: "How do you know that?"
Son #2: "We saw it on the Simpson's."

What would Reverend Lovejoy think?