My home state of Maine yesterday made a tremendous step in the furtherance of equality for all.  It was not as big a step as manyof us might have hoped for, but it was significant none the less.

Imagine my dismay when I logged into my Facebook account to find the following message in my inbox:

Subject: Gay Marriage is stupid

November 4 at 9:12pm Report
It is a can of worms we dont even want to open eg Health insurance!! I resent you dikes and faggots parading yourselves in front of our children! We tried tyo be nice to you but you just wont shut the fuck UP!

I responded, I think, calmly:

Shannara Gillman November 4 at 9:22pm
While I admire firmly held beliefs I have no patience for hateful attacks. You will be reported to facebook for your inappropriate use of this forum. And on a side note, when leaping into the intellectual fray it pays to have your facts straight. I am neither a dyke nor a faggot, although I count many of both among my friends. I am a straight mother who is committed to teaching her children love and acceptance are family values, not hatred and ignorance.

I have removed the individuals name as I have no desire to perpetuate a cycle of hatred. I do not know this person. We have no friends in common. This was a hate based attack by someone from another state who has no idea who I am or what life I lead. I am unsure how this person came to find me or how they determined my stance on gay marriage. I’m not sure that matters.

But this attack is nothing compared to the attacks our gay family,friends and neighbors face on a daily basis. There was no threat of violence here. It will not impact my life beyond the minor irritation and frustration. I have gotten off easy.

But my friends and family wo are gay do not often get off so easy. And this is why it is so vitally important to continue to talk about, think about and fight for equality for all people. It is not just a concept, not just an idea. It has an impact on people’s lives. On all of our lives. Because until we are all free to live and love how we choose, none of us are free.

I wrote this poem on 9/11 in 2002.  Be forwarned, I am unashamedly liberal and this poem reflects that.

September 11^th, 2002

A year has passed

In the aftermath

Of our country’s greatest unlearned lesson

We name the dead

And fill our heads

With the insidious propaganda of retribution

We are told that this is war

Assured

We don’t know what’s in store

It’s an eye for an eye

A tooth for a tooth

While orphaned children cry

And we ignore the truth

Years of Americans on Unamerican shores

Tallying it all in incursions and tours

Passion plays of collateral damage

And we have collectively managed

To forget

The regret

We should feel keenly especially now

When we have gained the understanding of how

The majority of the world lives

And dies

Yet the cries

Of children of third world nations

Of lesser stations

Fall on our deaf ears

How many years

How many souls

Can we kill or control

Before we grasp the error of our ways

How many days

Of playing god in countries

Who have never known plenty

Before we learn

The hatred we’ve earned

How many schools and hospitals burned

How many lives wasted

How much blood tasted

Before we understand

The impact of our heavy hand

It is this that perpetuates

Deep seated hate

Causes men to take to the skies

And our snide

American pride

Allows us to believe that jealousy

Is the cause of this tragedy

When the truth lies

In that which we deny

Our culpability

Our responsibility

In a thousand tragedies

In poor countries

Who could not refuse

To be used

To be “aided”

And we wonder why they are jaded?

How lucky are we that terror lives in one day

Not an ever present threat that is constantly replayed

When all are affected but most indirectly

Instead of fearing for your loved ones daily

When your home is destroyed in a bomb strike

Whose purpose is to avoid a gas hike

In the land of big screen tvs

And shiny SUVs

Then you can claim righteous rage

When your children waste away before your eyes

To support the lies

Of the thinly veiled fascism

Of overt capitalism

You will have borne the weight of the golden age

Each person lost

Is too high a cost

Whether you believe them black or white

Wrong or right

By whoever’s standards you choose

We all lose

When we close our eyes and turn our backs

On pointless and futile attacks

What it all boils down to

Is doing all we can do

So the few

Don’t drag the earth’s entire population

Down to prove their’s is the greatest nation

Because it will not matter

If everything is shattered

To satiate the thoughtless, heartless bloodlust

Of small men

We must make sure it doesn’t end this way

That we all accept our responsibility to say

This is our pain and our loss

And it has come a too great a cost

We will not see this wrong redone

On other mothers daughters sisters brothers fathers and sons

This has to end here

Let us be clear

We will not defile the dead

We will not turn our heads

We will demand an end to the cycle of violence

We will proclaim our defiance

We will not be misled

By the lies we are fed

We will not enforce freedom with an iron hand

While sticking our heads in the sand

And ignoring the loss of our own freedoms:

            Freedom of speech

            Freedom of choice

            Freedom to teach

            Freedom of voice

We have done more to diminish our freedoms with our own denials and lies

Then any could do with four planes in eerily blue skies

Our nations encroaching mediocrity

Painted as patriotism does not fool me

I will not participate in a misguided pep rally

For an international football game with a death tally

And it’s true that my one voice may be small

It’s true it may not be heard at all

But if you speak out with me

Then emerges the possibility

That all of us will be

            Heard

And rest assured

There will be persistence

In the rejection of resistance

To the party line

But it is not yours and it is not mine

I will not accept this

Continue to reject this

Until more of us accept our arrogance

And are ashamed by our ignorance

And act

Forcing the moneymen to react

Or move aside

To avoid the tide

Of America propelling itself to a new day

We must accept that it is a long hard way

To a path of empathy and peace

But it is a place that we can reach

If we sing loud enough

Stand proud enough

Fight long enough

Are strong enough

We will surpass together our individual inability

To affect change

Together we will counteract the eventuality

Of wars being waged

I believe in our country can become more than it has been

That coming together we can truly begin

To take our place

Not just take up space

Together we can alter the way in which our country behaves

To truly reflect that this is the land of the free and the home of the brave

Insecurity paralyzes the timid heart.  It wasn’t his intent to be here again.  He has walked these halls too many times in recent memory.  Unfortunately they are circular and always lead him here.  At this point he does not know how to escape the pre-determined path.

There was a time he came close to breaking out.  Freedom was within reach.  Release was imminent.

But the circuit was familiar.  The pre-determined path was safe.  So he went back.  And it was too late he realized the mistake of this retreat.

Some things are not built to last.  Some things will never change.  Some things are meant to end.

He rails against the inevitability of forward motion.  There will be brighter days.  But right now he can not see them.

Time will pass and he will see.  While this does not dull the blow, it will pay a reward.  He needs to have faith.  Faith all that has happened was meant to happen.  Faith this has a reason.  Faith loss is the beginning of discovery.

It is funny how one thing can change everything. One shift alters the landscape. It begins here and ends some place else entirely.

She found the days passed more easily than they had in a long time. The everyday became joyful and the exceptional miraculous.

She was not so naïve to believe that it would always feel this way. But she was not in any rush to relinquish the feeling. It was something worth savoring.

She wasn’t sure what else to do, so she did something she could barely imagine.

She had sung for them all and found there was no more for her to do in this place.  She had poured so much into the words and melodies they had taken on a life of their own.  And it was this heart’s work which carried her forward.

She hoped she would come back someday.  There were connections which would always be dear.

It wasn’t that she felt so brave.  She knew it was what she had to do.

She packed her life up in boxes and bags and prepared to step off the edge of what she knew.  It was thrilling to take the risk.  But it was heart wrenching to go.

So the soul baring songstress with the silk smooth voice and sun bright smile prepared to sing her goodbyes to the laughter she had shared, the joy she had created and the loves that surrounded her.

But who would sing for the songbird?

Those who were happy to see her soar, but sad to see her go.

blue grey shadows cast by the winter bright moon slide over a plane of unmarred snow

crystalline brilliance

softening the sharper corners

everything made finer by the lace of water and cold air

the north wind

an artic kiss

the trees bend in deference to

crystalline brilliance

blanketing each limb

everything made quiet by the fabric of winter’s deep mantle

silent season

sleeping landscape

i take in the night

crystalline brilliance

enhancing all i see

everything made breathtaking by that brilliance

moonlit night

soothing stillness

So there I was, sitting at home, mind my own business,when the phone rang.  It was an unfamiliar number with a local area code.  I answered, half expecting a desperate plea by a struggling local non profit for money or volunteer time or both.  Instead I heard, “This is _____, the director of _______. ”

I was instantly flustered.  I asked her how she was, interrupting her as she wass offering me a part in her production.  My brain froze momentarily.  It just didn’t make any sense.  I didn’t audition to get a part.  What was she thinking?

But I had a part.  A good part.  An interesting part.  A part that I was really excited about.  I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it.

She gave me a lot of information which I could not focus on at all.  thankfully she also explained she would be sending an email with all the information I needed.  I stammered like a moron and uttered incoherent sentences.  Or at least that’s how it felt.  I thanked her an hung up the phone.

I immediately thought of a million questions.  How often would we be rehearsing?  What nights?  When was the performance?

But this was all superceded by this pleasant feeling of surprise.  I really hadn’t expected to be cast.  And I had been.  It was a tremendous ego boost.

Now I just have to find a babysitter sso I can rehearse.

So I did it.  And lived.  And actually did pretty well.

So the question becomes, what do I do if I get a part? :)

It’s like exercising a muscle after a sprain.  Everything is tight.  You don’t move the way you did before.  You have to think about things that previously were unconscious.

I don’t know what possessed me to decide to audition for the playwright’s festival.  Maybe the rekindled desire to immerse myself in theater.  Perhaps a renewed sense of purpose.  Most definitely in part because the actors will be paid.

The process of preparing for an audition has been harder than I remember.  Finding the right monologue, learning it, practicing it, perfecting it.  Worrying about whether you have any talent.  Wondering what the hell you are doing.

I picked a comic piece.  I’ve practiced by myself, in front of the mirror and in front of the Fiend.  I’ve even subjected some folks at work to it.  No amount of practicing is lessening the feeling that I must be crazy to think I can do this.

I remember a time when auditions didn’t have such a profound effect on me.  I would always be a bit nervous.  But when I’m practicing now I’m vaguely nauseous.

In all fairness it has been a long time since I’ve auditioned for anything in this way.  I know I will be up against folks who audition as easily as they breathe.  I have a sneaking suspicion it will feel a bit like a firing line for me.

I may not get a part.  I may.  I think right now that doesn’t matter.  The largest part for me is doing it.  Exercising the stiff muscle which has not been used for so long. Working through my own fears of failure and embarrassment.  Remembering why I love this and trying my best.

The plane tipped to one side as it curved away from the earth.  The land fell away leaving nothing but blue.  She wanted nothing more than to be back on solid ground in her own hometown. 

The last two days had taken lifetimes.  The exhaustion was starting to creep in around the corners.  But she had a long way to go before home.

Puffs of white cloud streamed over the wing breaking the monotony of blue.  “Just close your eyes for awhile,” he had said, “Get a bit of rest before we land.”

She held a book, ignored in her fascination with the blankness.  The book started to slip from her fingers as her eyelids drooped.  She pulled it back before the fall and laid it in her lap.  “I’ll just close my eyes for awhile,” she thought.

When her eyes closed the events of the past few days played across her memory.  Driving her father and aunt to the airport, getting everyone through security and on the plane, landing in the bright light of the nation’s capital.  Then navigating the terminal, getting the rental car and checking in at the hotel.  Finally, the reunion.

These were family members who had been virtual strangers for over twenty years.  People drawn together by loss and grief.  And, as was typical of this family, to cope they drank.  Heavily.  At one point she had to negotiate with the police on her cousin’s behalf.  At another she was responsible for a rather large bar tab left behind by members of the party long departed,  At another she found herself dragging a heavily intoxicated young sergeant back down the hill to his hotel room.

When she finally made her way to her hotel room it was hot and dry.  Her body was exhausted but her mind would not stop.  Sleep was fitful.  Morning came too soon.

She went through the motions of morning routine.  Shower, dress, gather and go.  There was breakfast with the family followed by the military hurry up and wait in the lobby.  When finally she eased the rental car behind the limousines, she breathed a small sigh of relief to have the proceedings underway.

The cemetery was a sea of white headstones, occasionally punctuated by something more personal erected by a family of some means.  She found herself wondering which type of headstone he would have. 

There were checkpoints and protocol.  Then they were all ushered into a small room to wait some more.  His beautiful baby girls were dressed in matching dresses, coats and hats, identical impressions of one another but in reality two halves of a whole.  One angel slept while the other was engaged and inquisitive.

There was the service and her cousin’s powerful remembrance of her brother.  Then the journey to the grave, once again through the field of lost soldiers.  The cold air, snowflakes flying.  Her father held her arm and she clasped his hand.  She shivered, but not from the cold.  But she had to stay focused.  Her role was to worry about the logistics so her father and aunt could be there.  To hold the space so they could grieve.  And she still had to get them home.

The plane tilted again, an indication that this leg of the journey was drawing to a close.  She opened her eyes to a blank white outside the window.  They were in a cloudbank.  Flying through a clean slate.

She didn’t feel so tired anymore.  She would be able to get her aunt and father home.  She could hold it together a while longer.  And then she could succumb to the sadness. 

Sadness for the loss of a good man.  Sadness for those who were forever affected by that loss.  Sadness for the realization her father was indeed blind.  Sadness because her aunt was so much older than she imagined her to be.  Sadness for twin angels who would grow up with two American flags and a set of medals to represent a father they would never know.

The plane burst through the clouds.  The city below was a marvel of motion.  The plane banked making its final turn toward the runway.  Once again there was nothing but blue.  She wiped away the tear and reminded herself that it would have to wait.