SPEAK UP MR ROMNEY

When John McCain was running for president a woman at a town hall meeting said that she knew Obama was an Arab...or a Muslim, and John McCain quickly took the microphone away from her and corrected her...even adding that Barrack Obama was a good "family man"...and a Christian.

When Mitt Romney's gay advisor resigned because the religious right wing of the GOP was upset about his sexuality, Mitt never stood up for him...not a peep. Likewise when someone else asked Romney a question...and said that Obama ought to be tried for treason...not a peep from Romney. When Rush Limbaugh called the Georgetown woman a slut, Romney again had no response beyond " I would not have used those words."

Remember when the US soldier in uniform was booed by the audience at a GOP debate because he was gay...and NONE of the candidates said a word?

Seems to me that silence always implies complicity....and although I disagreed with John McCain over quite a few major issues...he showed courage, and even more important, honesty and moral integrity when he spoke up for the truth. Sorry Mitt...sorry GOP....you just don't deserve the same respect.

A TALE OF TWO PASTORS

Three cheers for the OTHER pastor in North Carolina...after hearing the hateful remarks by Ron Baity about punching your kids if they tell you they're gay...last night I heard from Dr William Barber who is preaching a very different message. In his defense of the constitution, he stressed the crucial point that when the majority votes on the rights of a minority it sets a very dangerous precedent.

Voters in North Carolina will be voting on Amendment 1, which would ban marriage equality in that state for gay people as well as for any other kind of domestic partnership. Rev.Barber urged people to always be against division and hatred and discrimination being written into the constitution. "The question that should have been raised, is "Do you want to go against Constitutional history?" And that is, since the passage of 13th and 14th and 15th Amendments, we've always expanded rights. We've never decreased rights. We know better.

The only time we limited was in 1875. That was the last time we tried this marriage thing … 1875, in North Carolina, when we amended the Constitution to disallow interracial marriage." That's how the Rev put it. The North Carolina legislature never allowed any public comment, and the vast majority of lawyers in the state have rejected this as "bad law".
God forbid that the majority could vote on some of our hardest fought battles for civil rights in this country...especially in the South. Racism is rampant all over this country...and some of our history is indeed ugly. Homophobia is still as rampant as well. These opportunities for any minority to be injured lie in wait every time these amendments raise their miserable heads.
As the battles rage on, and the politicians weigh in about equal marriage, with so many supporting "civil unions" but not marriage, I have two thoughts.
1. If Marriage is strictly something that the churches are left to decide...why do people have to go to the courthouse to get a "license"?
2. Giving gay people the option for a "civil union" instead of a marriage seems kinda like telling Rosa Parks that she could sit in the middle of the bus.

BULLIES

Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone....and indeed I always hoped that I'd see you again. I've been working on my High School reunion with a few other guys that I hardly recognize, and got an email that John G. had died at age 54. I only knew John as another guy in a jacket and tie at our Catholic boy's school, but  I'd been thinking about him the last few years since there's been so much focus on bullying. You see John had big ears...and "they" called him "Dumbo"...the flying elephant. I remember being in an assembly when the hundreds of kids there started to chant " Dumbo Dumbo Dumbo when he walked in. While I never teased John, I never did anything to help him either. I was always trying to stay under the radar myself because I was terrified that if the focus ever landed on me, my lack of athletic ability, or my very secret fears about my sexuality would destroy me.

     Ray was my best friend and constant companion. Ray was funny, and could make almost everyone laugh, and being beneath his wing kept me safe. Ray was a little guy, and while he could stand up for himself...I was afraid to. If Ray teased anyone, it was never malicious or taken the wrong way. He kept us both safe, but even as a team we were no match for the big guys.

Once in awhile two boys would meet "up at the path" which was behind our school, and that was where they'd fight. Ray and I steered clear of the whole area...except once. A guy named Jeff had grown up with us...and was one of the few people that I'd disliked since the day I met him in grade school. One afternoon he challenged another boy to meet him at the path. Jeff was a nasty kid...knocked around by his Dad, and hateful with his Mother. The other boy was a gentle and really nice young kid...but I remember thinking that his Dad must have taught him to "fight back". To this day I shudder when I remember seeing Jeff punch him, and make his nose bleed. The other boy was no match for Jeff...and the fight ended with the boy wiping blood off his face with tears in his eyes. Why I went there that day I'll never know...but I never went again, and I've obviously never forgotten it.

My own terror at either being discovered as a "queer" or a guy who couldn't play sports kept me silent when John would turn red when he'd hear "Hey Dumbo", or while I stood by and watched a really delicate boy's face bleed. So I understand why sometimes kids are afraid to step in and stop other kids from bullying...and it still breaks my heart.

By the time I got to Duquesne and went through some horrendous hazing by my fraternity...I hung in there through that misery so that I could do something about it from the inside ( Kinda like why I'm still a Catholic ). I made a difference finally...and with my "power" as a brother, I was able to change a lot of what could be done to the pledges. They called me the " dove "...but by then I was beginning to stand up against the bullies. Too late for John, and too late for that boy on the path. I'm sorry that I couldn't help you guys.

FOR KIDS WHO MIGHT BE GAY

Dear Kids who just might be gay,

With so many adults sending you messages that might either scare you or at least help to ruin your day, here's one that's a whole lot different. When the preacher said last week that parent's should physically hurt their kids if they think they're gay...he's a fool, and he's also guilty of encouraging child abuse.

There are lots of people like him unfortunately, and a lot them are in churches, where they speak about hatred instead of teaching you about love.

Lots of our political leaders are also fools, especially when they fight against giving only straight people the right to marry whomever they chose to marry. I hope one day you will also listen to your heart, and not to any one of the bullies in the world who would tell you any differently.

When I was a kid I was afraid to get in touch with who I really was. I was afraid first of all about whether it was even true or not. I liked girls...jeeze I think I went to nine proms altogether...really. I wanted to be like everybody else and get married and have kids...and I almost did that, but that wasn't the truth for me. I didn't want to say I was gay...because for one thing...I wasn't even sure.

The other thing that terrified me was that I'd lose the people who loved me. Now who in their right mind would want to do that. I really didn't want to hurt anybody, but finally figured out that by not being honest, I was already hurting people.

Things changed right after college for me. Several older adults spoke to me about honesty, and aligning oneself with the truth...always the truth. I realized that I could indeed marry one of the amazing women in my life..whom I STILL love with all my heart, but that really wasn't honest, truthful, or fair. I also kept thinking that I'd be swimming up stream my whole life.

I was scared to death the first few times I said those two (originally six) words..." I think I might be gay." whew. My Mom and Dad were shocked, but supportive, my 13 year old brother was disappointed that my "news" wasn't bigger...and my best friends...especially the straight ones reacted with more love and understanding than I'd ever dreamed of. All of this was a whole lot tougher than it sounds, but the truth and the honesty really set me free.

So if you struggle with being who you are, take your time, think about what's really true, and then reach out to someone you love and trust. If that person is hard to find...don't give up. There are kind and wonderful, and gentle people who will help you, support you, and love you....no matter what. Don't let the voices of hatred, intolerance, and condemnation direct your sail. There is a beautiful and calmer sea of love out there, right around the next bend.

                          

everything possible:flower pots - YouTube

MOGO

I once spent the better part of a summer worshiping a piece of an old toilet.

Once again I'd seen some strange movie about a tribe of strange people in some strange jungle who worshiped some sort of a strange relic or mysterious object.

I was about 10, and Susan was about 9, and of course she was immediately on board as my assistant when the recruiting began. With my pied piper like influence in the neighborhood, our project once again just flew off the ground.

We lived on a dead end street that ended up with a "cow path" that led into a fairly large woods, and if we weren't riding our bikes on the street, or jumping around like monkeys on our pogo sticks, we were in the woods. I was determined to find some object for us to "worship", and after scrounging around the foundation of an old farmhouse, I spied my treasure....a little white porcelain thing that kinda looked like a rounded cross. I rushed over to get Susan's opinion...and was somewhat disappointed when she said " It looks like part of a toilet". I was of course indignant, and disgusted with her brutal assessment. After I convinced her that it just FELT like a toilet she agreed to support my view, and we headed into the woods.

Susan found the perfect spot for our secret society, where we'd be able to hold our rituals and spend our days in service to our false god. As our flock grew, we constructed a shack (of sorts) and dug a hole for our forbidden campfires, and focused on our holy of holies grotto where our little thing-a-ma-jig would dwell.

  Somewhere in my ten year old twisted dreams I came up with a name....for the object that I was now adoring every day....MOGO. Susan loved that from the beginning, and in the blink of an eye had organized the kids into a circle around the fire pit chanting " MOGO MOGO MOGO ".

We collected broken colored glass to decorate the throne, tried to transplant weeds to make our sacred land more hidden, and spent lots of time dancing around like little idiots while we praised and honored MOGO. Now and then we would have a terrifying interruption...as would occur on a semi regular basis when we'd be in the woods.

Our frightening nemesis was always the " Panther Club "....a group of older boys who roamed the same woods and would beat up anyone they happened to encounter. Every once in awhile someone would whisper " the panther club is coming".....and we'd all run home. Now I don't ever remember seeing the actual panthers....I guess it was just kinda the boogeyman that we created.

None the less, we were cautious and always vigilant.

When we finally got tired of MOGO and decided instead to do a big switch-

a-roo and start rehearsals for " The miracle of Our Lady of Fatima ", poor Mogo was abandoned...but one of these days I always think that Susan is going to show up at my door with a little box....with something VERY special inside.

Mr. President.....I disagree.

If by any chance you teach a third grade class, you'd better start teaching them about Afghanistan...because it's possible that they could end up in Kabul someday. I did not like what the president had to say last night, and the fact that so many of the Republicans that I have a hard time stomaching agreed with him...says a lot. My nephew just turned 18 last month...has a terrific future promised to him, and the thought of him being sent to Afghanistan makes me sick, and the unspeakable nightmare of him dying there would absolutely push me to the brink. Expecting any other uncle or family member to endure such a horrendous loss is equally unthinkable to me. I don't believe that this ten year war is worth dying for. period.

Just like my old pal Rick Santorum said he wanted to throw up after reading JFK's thoughts about church and state, hearing the new ten year deal with Afghanistan made me pretty sick to my stomach. This God-forsaken country is one of the most corrupt nations in the world....with horrendous human rights violations, but it still receives the most financial aid of any country in the world...and has been since 2008. Remember when the 3 billion was skimmed by the big shots there?

My stomach still turns when I hear "when the army here stands up, the US will stand down"

This time it's "when the Afghans stand up, the US will stand with them". I don't WANT to make our men and women stand with them. The Afghan army has quite a history of standing up with our troops...and opening fire on them. Their army is as corrupt as the government is.

Bottom line. Afghanistan harbored Osama..and trained terrorists...and was bulging at the seams with Al Qaeda. The leader is dead, and the Taliban is negotiating, and Al Qaeda is headquartering in Yemen. Let's go home. Bringing even one more young kid home in a coffin is one too many. One thousand nineteen hundred and forty five is a disgrace, and the sixteen thousand wounded is an outrage. Afghanistan looks the same to me as it did ten years ago....and 120 billion dollars a year would do one hell of a lot to make our own country a better place to live. Ninety thousand soldiers could make a huge difference in a lot of other places in the world....or right here at home.

So I absolutely hate the fact that the seven and eight year olds who will walk down the aisle of our church in their white First Communion dresses or wearing their first neckties this year have just been given a possible glimpse of their future....risking their lives someday for an unwinnable war in a corrupt and ungrateful far off disaster of a country.

OPENING DAY IN CRAFTON

Although we're supposed to wait a few more weeks around here before we plant much in the garden...as far as I'm concerned...it's plantin' time! After an incredibly long pre-spring or whatever it was, I think we're finally there. I'll start trolling the nurseries this week, once again breaking my vow to have a plan...and I'll start impulsively grabbing whatever catches my eye.

I try hard to "shop small" and patronize the independent greenhouses and growers, but I'm also drawn to some of the big box stores in spite of myself. I don't buy anything from Walmart...because I just don't like the whole Walmart operation. Home Depot near me has a huge nursery operation, but they don't take very good care of the stock, and that's a turn off. Lowes tends to have a better selection as well as healthier and better cared for plants.

Now I'm about to make a confession. I buy most plants from the Giant Eagle in Crafton.

I think their floral department and their outdoor summer greenhouse has about the nicest selection in the area...at the best prices..and with double "fuel perks" this year. The people who run the operation here are knowledgeable, hardworking and really nice people. They hand select their product from the wholesalers, and carry lots of unusual plants and flowers.

Looking for braided hibiscus, tall gardenias, stephanotis, white oleander...look no farther.

You'd also be hard pressed to find a wilted plant or a dead flower even on the hottest summer afternoon.

On the 14th of this month the store will open it's outside grill for lunch. This draws big crowds and is located right beside the greenhouse. A whole little world exists there in the summer, friendly locals buying geraniums and eating hot dogs, and lots of workers on their lunchbreak joking with the always friendly grillers. It's refreshing to be around people who love to be with other people...outside...surrounded by flowers and good spirits. Gotta run...

I never miss opening day.