"Come celebrate peace and social justice at Comfest, arguably the largest free, non-corporate urban music and arts festival in the US."
I should probably preface my comments by letting you in on a not too well kept secret. I am probably the most plain vanilla dude on the planet. Hi, I'm Joe "White, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, Republican (how's that working for me?), heterosexual, khaki and polo shirt wearing" America.
So Comfest (short for Community Festival) is a celebration of everything I'm not. That's an oversimplification but let's go with it for now. There's a big part of me that admires those that dare to be different and stand up for what they believe in. But there's also a part of me that wants to point my finger and gape. Luckily it's that second part that I brought with me to Comfest.
As N. and I pedaled up, the "Pride Parade" was beginning. Yes we rode our bikes to Comfest. I'd say, "How very green of us", but we drove to a park and biked in from there. Anyway, back to the Pride Parade. How very interesting. Sing with me now: "Who wears short shorts? Boys wear short shorts!"
Once the parade passed we were able to get into the park and check out the booths and watch the people. The booths offered a little something for everyone, even me. We got some lunch at the wellness forum's booth. I had a Del's favorite wrap, which included hummus and baked tofu. It was actually very good. BTW, in case you're wondering (Day ???, 236 lbs). N. had a salad with tahini dressing and we shared a side order of flatbread and hummus.
Then we went on to explore the booths. Like I said these ran the gamut. OK, not quite the full range of the gamut, I did not see a McCain 2008 booth anywhere. There was, of course, a Register to vote for Obama booth as well as a booth for the Libertarian party. There was tie-dye aplenty, and a huge assortment of pipes; we learned about saving the animals, ending the violence in Darfur, and how to simplify our lives. We perused the dozens of crafts booths. We purchased tee shirts from the local bike co-op, picked up a pinwheel whirly gig from another booth, and bought organic dog and kitty treats for our kids (what is spelt flour, anyway?).
Oh yeah, did I mention there were people there too? Apparently, Comfest is the opportunity to dive into the depths of one's closet and don the most outlandish apparel that one owns. Missing this memo, I personally arrived in a pair of rust colored Columbia shorts and a 'Big Dogs' tee shirt. At least I was sporting the bicyclist's mud spatter up the back of my shorts and shirt so I didn't look quite so much like an off-duty republican.
There were men in kilts, men in skirts, women clad above the waist in only pairs of "Obama 08" stickers, fishnet stockings of all colors adorning both genders, lots and lots of black, plenty of hand logo-emblazoned tee shirts (My fave: "This is what a lesbian looks like" Thanks, I'll update my field guide accordingly), and last but not least a somewhat lost looking chap in a "Hank Williams, Jr. tee shirt.
I loved it. I was drawn in enough to be irked by the "Comfest is going away" signs of protest in neighboring windows. Really, get over yourselves. If you're that closed-minded that you can't tolerate diversity in your neighborhood for three very peaceful, harmonic days then schedule your vacation around these days. Or take in a John McCain "Stay the Course" rally instead. Just remember that the right to have gatherings like Comfest is one of the rights that our service men and women are dying to preserve.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Separate and Different
Today I'm caught between my two lives.
Yesterday N. and I completed the 30 mile Tour de Feed benefiting the local food bank. It is an excellent example of what is so great about our relationship. We share so much in common and enjoy doing so much together. It's not fair to compare my two lives, they are separate and different. That being said, I am more content now than I ever have been.
But I never would have been ready for and open to this new life if not for the experiences of my past life.
Two years ago today, I awoke and slid quietly out of bed to walk the dogs, being careful not to awaken L. My mother had arrived in town the night before and L. always went out of her way to prepare the house for her arrival. So I was neither surprised nor concerned when she fell asleep early and was still sleeping when I woke up before dawn.
As I walked the dogs I started to get this nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right with the way she was lying in the bed. I hurried the dogs about their business; at this point it was just a silly sensation anyway. When I saw her again the suspicion quickly turned to dread. She was still in the same position as when I slid out of bed. Normally she would stir a little, roll over, shift, do something. I gave her a gentle nudge, my biggest concern being how stiff she would feel when she woke up from having slept in the same position for so long.
I knew immediately she was gone the moment I touched her. I shook her to wake her, knowing in my heart that wasn't going to happen. The entire morning is basically a blur to me, but I will never forget the image of her face as I rolled her over: cold, gray and stiff. That image is as fresh in my memory as if it were a snapshot that I pulled out and studied every day for the past two years. I can't remember more than bits and pieces of the rest of the morning and couldn't put them in any semblance of order: futile resuscitation attempts, paramedics, firemen, police officers, the coroner. I was numb and lost. At some point the numbness wore off and I became certain that no one anywhere, ever had suffered this kind of pain and loss. In my head I knew this wasn't the case, but my head could not convince my heart differently.
Two years later, my heart has healed. Not completely, but fully. I will always miss L and I will always love her. My heart aches that I could neither fix her, nor be what she needed me to be. I am comforted in knowing that for the most part I was what she wanted me to be and that I gave her a level of happiness she hadn't been able to find previously in her life. I know that she loved me and I'm more certain now that she knew that I loved her.
So today. Today I take some time to focus on the past rather than the present and future. I hold tight to a love and life lost, recognizing that with each passing year the memories will fade ever so slightly and the pain will continue to dull and ebb away.
L,
I love you, I miss you, and I wish you peace.
C.
Yesterday N. and I completed the 30 mile Tour de Feed benefiting the local food bank. It is an excellent example of what is so great about our relationship. We share so much in common and enjoy doing so much together. It's not fair to compare my two lives, they are separate and different. That being said, I am more content now than I ever have been.
But I never would have been ready for and open to this new life if not for the experiences of my past life.
Two years ago today, I awoke and slid quietly out of bed to walk the dogs, being careful not to awaken L. My mother had arrived in town the night before and L. always went out of her way to prepare the house for her arrival. So I was neither surprised nor concerned when she fell asleep early and was still sleeping when I woke up before dawn.
As I walked the dogs I started to get this nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right with the way she was lying in the bed. I hurried the dogs about their business; at this point it was just a silly sensation anyway. When I saw her again the suspicion quickly turned to dread. She was still in the same position as when I slid out of bed. Normally she would stir a little, roll over, shift, do something. I gave her a gentle nudge, my biggest concern being how stiff she would feel when she woke up from having slept in the same position for so long.
I knew immediately she was gone the moment I touched her. I shook her to wake her, knowing in my heart that wasn't going to happen. The entire morning is basically a blur to me, but I will never forget the image of her face as I rolled her over: cold, gray and stiff. That image is as fresh in my memory as if it were a snapshot that I pulled out and studied every day for the past two years. I can't remember more than bits and pieces of the rest of the morning and couldn't put them in any semblance of order: futile resuscitation attempts, paramedics, firemen, police officers, the coroner. I was numb and lost. At some point the numbness wore off and I became certain that no one anywhere, ever had suffered this kind of pain and loss. In my head I knew this wasn't the case, but my head could not convince my heart differently.
Two years later, my heart has healed. Not completely, but fully. I will always miss L and I will always love her. My heart aches that I could neither fix her, nor be what she needed me to be. I am comforted in knowing that for the most part I was what she wanted me to be and that I gave her a level of happiness she hadn't been able to find previously in her life. I know that she loved me and I'm more certain now that she knew that I loved her.
So today. Today I take some time to focus on the past rather than the present and future. I hold tight to a love and life lost, recognizing that with each passing year the memories will fade ever so slightly and the pain will continue to dull and ebb away.
L,
I love you, I miss you, and I wish you peace.
C.
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