Maybe it’s the (election) season, but anymore I feel like I should rename this blog “Lefty in the twilight zone,” because every time I turn around I find myself being circumspect about my political stance seemingly despite the trend of things away from the so-called “Bush Legacy,” the Palin bounce (sounds dirtier than it is) notwithstanding.
The reason, I suspect, has to do with the fact that I live in Kansas City, which despite its moderate size and going kinda Democratic the last time around, is still about the most conservative town its size you’re likely to find (never mind Urban Archipelago although KC and Douglas County did go blue). I haven’t researched this extensively, but I’m reasonably confident. Must be all that barbecue. I don’t know. Anyway.
This observation came to me at our first cub scout meeting last night. Yes, middle child J and I are going to give Tiger Cubs a go. He’s gung-ho. I, not surprisingly, have had a somewhat more wary attitude toward the BSA since their rather public membership policy scuffles a few years back. I’ll save the needless explanation and direct you to the Wikipedia article on the dirt. In addition to the expected reservations with those stances are the striking reverence for the flag and rather thinly veiled militaristic references. Philosophically, from the perspective of a member of a historic peace church, these also give pause.
When E wanted to get into Girl Scouts, it was relatively painless. As an organization, their stance seems to be a lot more tolerant than that of BSA and there didn’t seem to be the same “my way or the highway” aspect to membership. Now, granted my wife J was (and is) more involved with that than I was (and am). She also possesses a measure of pragmatism about the whole endeavour that I have yet to achieve.
And really, all that said, there are a lot of things about the scouts that I do really like. I did cub scouts and boy scouts when I was a kid, although policies in Canada are a bit different than they are here. From the boys’ perspective, however, much of that is not part of their experience. No, as far as J is concerned, it’s a chance for him to do some fun stuff with other boys and he’s enthusiastic to give it a whirl. He doesn’t share my concerns, and at 6, nor should he.
I’ve never been a “storm the gates” kind of revolutionary, but I do take some comfort in sites like Scouting for All. I guess in a measure of rationalization, I’d like to think that I could be a moderate presence in some of the more rah-rah aspects of this activity. Boy, there sure are a lot of them though. Natch. : )
As promised/threatened, I’m digging into the archives. I originally posted this about 4 years ago, not surprisingly in the run-up to a general election. The mood seemed a bit more fired up then than it does now, but my opinion on this topic remains the same.
Like the ironically same-named Clinton-era initiative, and President Bush’s recent and loud gyrations on ”Healthy Marriages” (brace yourself - it’s Heritage Foundation, so the political aroma is pretty strong), I’m all for marriage as a integral part of our society. I haven’t scrutinized President Bush’s plan in detail, but it seems that much of what I’ve seen really doesn’t apply to me. My one comment: what he considers a defense of marriage comes across to me as little more than an entrenchment of the status quo and a shut-out of a significant portion of the population for no better reason than that they practice fully adult love in a manner that they (Bush et al) don’t happen to agree with. And don’t “Read yer bible, son” me. Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy say a lot of things that we have no problem dismissing these days. Case in point: the apocryphal Letter to Dr. Laura.
I think what got me started on this was an article that Tony put up a while back to add to the general fun of the debate. At the risk, of appearing to pick on Tony, I’m going to have to take issue with his article. I like what I’ve read of Tony’s stuff. He has a lively take on things and it makes for a good read. I don’t agree with everything he says, but I think there’s enough commonality there that we could sit down over beers and come away from the experience none the worse for it. He did hit a small nerve with his article for a few reasons, though, which I’ll get into. Again, to re-iterate, I’m not picking on Tony specifically; he outlines a position I’ve heard to varying degrees in a number of places, though.
I think it’s safe to start from a fundamental difference of opinion that Tony and I appear to have. For lack of a better word, he appears to be no fan of the institution of marriage, while I on the other hand, am. Now where it gets fun, I think, is when folks who are pushing for a “traditional” definition of marriage to be codified into the constitution hear me say that and then turn around and say, How can that be? You think that gays should be allowed to marry!
Oh yes, with one small caveat: if that is their choice. The option should be there for them. That’s what I believe.
The assumption underlying the outcry against allowing gays to marry is that they will somehow destroy the institution of marriage; that “letting them in” somehow diminishes the relationship that I have with my wife. On that point, I disagree. If anything, I could see a potential benefit to opening the gate as a way of goading the status quo and fostering a new examination of marriage as an institution.
Is marriage a picnic? Dopey even to ask the question, no, of course not, not always. Does a 50% divorce rate suggest that we shuck the whole thing? A debatable assertion, maybe, but given how little effort the typical couple puts toward tending to their marriage, it’s actually surprising that the number is that low. Do I think that allowing gays to marry will have some profound impact on the institution of marriage? Possibly, yes, but that in and of itself is no reason to throw up the barricades. It’s here where I can see Tony and me coming toward each other when he makes the statement that there’s the opportunity for defining a new paradigm for relationships. Marriage, as an “institution,” has been around for a long while and has weathered many fashions and crises. Like all social institutions, though, the odd bit of revolution usually ends up making it stronger. If nothing else, it makes us question our assumptions, and generally, I regard that as a good thing.
It’s an intriguing idea, that gay and lesbian relationships could present a different way of thinking about marriage, offering some new ideas and, shock of shocks, models for dealing with our mates. When I see the froth that folks get into trying to “beat back the heathen hordes,” I have to admit wondering if the institution is really all it’s cracked up to be. Sort of an echo of that old Groucho Marx joke about not wanting to belong to any club that would have me as a member, only it’s not wanting to be part of an institution that engages in such ugly behaviour in the name of self-preservation. The question becomes what exactly is it preserving? And why? Of course, for me these are rhetorical questions. Just because I don’t agree with what a bunch of closed-off zealots are trying to do “in the name of marriage,” that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being married myself. In much the same way that I’ve asked how allowing gays to marry in any way affects my relationship with my wife, the same could be asked of the actions of these folks. I’m sure they believe in what they’re doing, but I’ve yet to hear any real reason that sways me.
I realize that there are significant portions of the African-American population who shy away from the comparison, if not oppose it outright, but I think there are some striking parallels between the civil rights struggles of the 50s and 60s and the struggles that gays are engaged in to be allowed to marry. And like those times, there’s a choice for those of us in the majority. The status quo, and its defence, depend on the exclusion of a group of people who are responsible members of our community, or at least no less responsible than sizeable portions of our community who are married, and pose no threat to us, except that they point up a difference in an area of our lives that frankly makes a lot of people uncomfortable. For me, this is a matter of principle and doing what’s right. President Bush thinks letting gays marry will destroy the institution of marriage and with it the fabric of society. I say it won’t. What’s needed is a bit of faith.
I’m feeling a bit bloggish today, but my skills are rusty. Let’s see how it goes.
It’s Fathers’ Day. I expect my Dad has returned from his and my Mom’s trip to lovely KC by now, so HFD, Dad, wherever you are. As it turns out, I have the house to myself, J deciding that she would take the kids and go to church and leave me the house to myself. E (the oldest) informed me that ice cream out was on the agenda for this afternoon and that’s cool. I like ice cream.
I was thinking about what sort of thing is usually on the agenda for a Sunday afternoon and this time of year that usually involves going swimming at the Y. I have to admit, this is not my favourite activity, but the kids love it, so I make the effort, although the schedule has been all wonky the last couple of weeks with camps and my folks’ visit and whatnot. I expect after the end of the month, the Y’s presence in our weekend plans will begin asserting itself again.
The Y is not my favourite activity for a bunch of reasons, but the one that was working its way through my head this morning while in the shower (perhaps not coincidentally) has to do with my history with water. As an amusing aside, depending on how seriously you take these things, I’m a Taurus, which I understand to be an earth sign. That could explain something, but I’ll take it as a coincidence and move on. FWIW, J’s a Taurus too and this sort of thing apparently doesn’t even enter into her thinking. So anyway.
I grew up near Lake Huron, but for a few reasons I won’t go into here I didn’t learn how to swim until relatively later, perhaps 8 or 9. If that doesn’t sound late to you, and if you’re over 40 (but maybe less than 60) maybe it doesn’t, you have to understand that by that age, I think most of “my cohort” were swimming like friggin’ fish. Seriously, it was a bit embarrassing. At any rate, after a somewhat painful process, I was able to master the skill and actually came to be rather comfortable in the water. I learned a few strokes, I learned how to dive without breaking my neck. For a time, even, I competed in triathlon which has a swimming component.
Up until I moved to the US, I had had the opportunity to swim in salt water exactly one time, in Boston, while I was in high school. I remember not particularly enjoying the experience, but the overriding memories of that whole episode was finding a dead jellyfish on the beach and some of my companions trying to bring back some form of sealife in the back of the bus and having it die and make just an unholy smell (it was August). That and eating lobster with my dad and about a dozen friends. Did I say Happy Fathers’ Day yet?
Now, intellectually, I understand why the experience of salt water swimming is different than freshwater, the salt content being the most obvious. In the opportunities that I’ve had since, my dislike for it has become more established. It’s more “slimy feeling.” How’s that for succinct? My apologies to those who grew up with saltwater or for whom the first “big water” swimming experience was the ocean, whichever it was. I suspect, however, that for those of us who grew up next to large, as in “can’t see the other side of it” bodies of fresh water, especially if that’s where we learned the skill of swimming, the feelings of saltwater vs. freshwater verge on the primal. I can’t be the only one who feels this way.
J has observed that I just don’t like swimming or getting wet. That’s not entirely true, but I can understand why she has that impression. Going swimming with the kids is more than just going to the pool. How to put this delicately? I’m a bit self-conscious being at the pool. One of the memories I have of going to the beach has to do with my rather fair skin. I put up with the usual expected “Casper” jokes, but I have to say, once I reached puberty it took the shine off going to the beach and exposing any more of my skin than would normally be seen in a typical business casual environment. Now, of course, that’s kind of dumb since I’m established in middle age and not really out to impress anyone, but old feelings die hard.
In a competitive situation, it was no problem. Folks are more concerned with what’s in those pasty white legs, but the tan from being in the sun, training presumably, could go a long way. Being shaved down helped too. Laugh if you must, but I remember being on the start of plenty of races and joining in the snobbish disdain for any guy who showed up with hair on his legs. Bit of a digression, though. Training these days involves coaxing myself out of bed at 5:15 three days a week to go for a half hour walk. I’m a ways from racing form. And even at that, swimming was always my weakest event.
Meanwhile, back at the point…
What I find at the Y these days, is that I don’t so much swim as play amateur lifeguard. E is to the point where she can swim unsupervised. J is a little terror on wheels when it comes to water, but he’s pretty good as long as he doesn’t get over his head. He knows this pool well enough that he knows where those spots are, but still, he bears watching. S is our little aquatic comedian. His greatest joy appears to be flinging himself off the side into J’s or my waiting (and *waiting*) arms after doing his little deck dance, which from what I understand resembles Peter Parker’s emo-Spider-Man dance from SMIII. I don’t know why he does it, but a moment’s inattention last year on my part caused me to look away just as he jumped in. The resulting collision caused a small gash on my forehead and a nice 3 stitcher on the underside of his chin. What a mess.
On the occasions when I can stretch out my legs and let loose with a few strokes of front crawl or breast stroke, it all comes back; the training, the puddling, the messing around as a kid. Just free-form swimming for the hell of it. My comfort level with being in water is high. I just get water. I love being in it or around it. I love having the kids tag on me while I breast stroke across the pool, although my buoyancy could use some help in those situations. When I can forget about watching or being watched, the feeling of effortless floating or stroking is a pure pleasure indeed.
Hm. I feel like I should tie this up, but I think I spent all my salient points. In place of a summary, please allow me to make a completely gratuitous link to a video of a skinny white guy at the pool. Enjoy. FWIW, Rowan Atkinson has more chest hair than I do. But then, I have a beard.
