Marriage Equality in Arizona, It's Personal

Marriage equality in Arizona: It’s personal  

Sue Green is a former journalist and the broadcast director of Cronkite News Service at Arizona State University. Four years ago, she married her partner of 15 years.  She first moved to Arizona in 1979.

My father used to tell me how he had to wait years for his marriage to be accepted in every state, but he didn’t say it with pity. He said it with pride because he had to fight for it.. You see he got married in 1961, six years before the Loving vs. Virginia ruling was handed down by the U.S. Supreme Court making it legal for all interracial couples to get married. Just straight couples of course, but hey, it was a step in the right direction.

My parents – a black man from California and a white woman from Liverpool - had a party that weekend to celebrate their freedom, their freedom to go where they wanted and not be afraid they would be turned away because by simply loving each other, they were breaking laws. When they married, only 24 states recognized their marriage. They even had to battle the military to get “permission” to. They met in England in 1959 and, like many G-I’s and British women, they fell in love and wanted to be together, to make a family. They just wanted to get married. But there was nothing logical about it because in more than half the states back home in the U.S., it was against the law.

After being called in to meetings with some of his superiors who spent hours trying to dissuade him, often questioning my mother’s motives, my father stuck by the side of the woman he loved, and the military eventually gave in, having no choice but to allow them to marry. No derogatory words yelled at both my mother and father during these meetings, or even threats, were going to change their minds. They loved each other and wanted to get married like their other friends.

After my mother and father were called into the offices of my dad’s bosses, and my mother called a whore, and threatened with not being able to get a VISA, and my dad being told he had to make a choice, my dad’s superiors realized this tactic would not work, and my father finally got the go-ahead and was told they could marry, but we could never be stationed at any base in any state where “miscegenation” was against the law. We would not be heading South. Quickly, my father agreed and got on the phone with my mother, telling her to grab her wedding dress which had been hanging in her closet for months. He wanted to get to registrar’s office before the military powers that be would change their minds.

That afternoon, they found a preacher, got my mother’s family together, and stood before the priest, God and a handful of friends and committed themselves to each other, regardless of the law in some states. That commitment was as strong the day my father died as it was the day they tied the knot, knowing they faced an uphill battle. But not letting it scare them off.

 Because of the laws against interracial marriages, we could not get orders to be sent to live in any of the states that did not recognize their marriage like Texas or Arizona, but that didn’t matter. My dad said there were plenty of other places that would accept him, his white wife and bi-racial child. We were eventually sent to California, and I quickly came along, followed 14 months later by my sister, and 14 month’s later by my brother.

 This interracial family with four young children who couldn’t have looked more different sort of stood out on the base. It seemed as if when we came out one after the other we got lighter and our hair got straighter. My brother could easily have passed for white, but not the rest of us. But while some people might have called us names, it didn’t bother us. We lived in a house where we knew our parents really wanted us, and were even willing to break the law to have us. How many people could say that?! We sort of lived in this safety cocoon at least while we lived on that base in California.

Then in 1967 everything changed. The Supreme Court said my parent’s marriage had to be recognized, and we were no longer “bastards” as some had called us. We were legal, everywhere.  At that point in my life, little did I know that fighting for marriage equality was far from over for me, that it was to become somewhat of a tradition for me.

  

You see, some 46 years later I found myself facing the same challenges my parents had faced when I decided to marry the woman of my dreams. My marriage to Robin Phillips was only legal in so many states, and many people told us don’t do it, it’s not worth the trouble, it will never be recognized. Sound familiar? Even Robin, my partner at the time had refused my marriage proposals several times when I asked her to marry me because she said she didn’t want to get married until all states would recognize it.

It wasn’t until I had to have a life threatening surgery that she finally gave in, married me, and wiped my sloppy tears as the minister conducted our ceremony on the beach in Provincetown, Mass., one of the few states that would recognize my marriage.

I didn’t realize how important this was to me until we signed our marriage license application and I realized this was how my parents felt, signing that paper, knowing that not everyone would recognize their marriage, but knowing they would, and that’s all that counted. It didn’t mater if it was just the two of us, or the 300 million people in the country, I just wanted to be married to Robin, and I didn’t care what the courts, lawmakers, voters or anyone else had to say about it. I knew that In Massachusetts I was “legal” and I was going to be legally married somewhere.

I felt my parents by my side even though they were not physically there as the wedding day arrived.  Robin, myself, the minister and two new friends stood there as we said our vows, heartfelt vows that summed up what we felt in the past, what we felt in that moment and what we were sure to feel in the future when the entire world would recognize what our small group of friends and family recognized, that we were now married.

Robin and I are lucky, we came home from our wedding and our neighbors had decorated our house. Before Pete and June knew us, they did not have friends who were gay, but after getting to know us as just “regular” people, they knew how important it was that we come home to Arizona, a state that did not recognize same sex marriage, and let us know they were with us. Heck, let the entire neighborhood know! Two other friends, Mark and Val, asked if they could throw us a wedding party. We have incredibly supportive family and friends, and we are just waiting for the day when they get to celebrate our “fully fledged marriage” with us, and not in just the 30 states where it is recognized.

I can go into the many legal reasons this is so important, but on this day, a day I was afraid I would never see before I passed, I would rather just spend the time thanking my family and friends for their support, the love of my wife Robin who has seen me through some tough times the past few years, the many people who I don’t know but who have fought to give Robin and I these rights, and my mother and father, those 63 years ago who taught me that it doesn’t matter if everyone agrees with you. If your love is strong enough it will be strong enough to survive all the hurtful words, and looks and comments over the years.

 They taught me that it was also my responsibility to the many who might not be as strong, and together as Robin and I have been strong enough to wait together, arm in arm not just with each other but our friends and family for this day, this day when our home state of Arizona is forced to recognize our marriage.

So, I say Thank You to all the people before me who have fought for the basic rights to be married, and those after who will continue to fight for others. Because what I have found is that love is indeed enough to see you through the tough times, and it is an amazing love that hopefully will help those who might not agree with these decisions to remember we are people with hearts and feelings, and if you can’t support us, at least respect the idea that we love each other as much as you might love the person you are with.

I thank the 9^th Circuit Court for falling on the side of those who support the idea that all people are created equal, and are willing to stand behind those words. While I wish that the voters of Arizona had had another chance to make this decision, I am happy that the court at least has seen that here in Arizona, Robin and I are like any other married couple. I thank you for helping me to once again have a reason for thanking my mother and father for showing me that no matter how difficult the journey, it is well worth each step of the way because you meet the most amazing and incredible people. Along the journey They might not always agree with everything you say, but they are good people, and they will amaze you at times when they stand up for you, so you remember to stand up for those who need your support.

     

I dedicate Father's Day to my Mom

I've been thinking about fathers and Father's Day a lot this week... thanks, Hallmark.

My parents divorced when I was 10 and that was back in the days when divorce for the man could mean "I'm outta here." There was no every-other-weekend sleepover and Wednesday-trips-for-ice-cream.

He was gone. But even when I think about the early days, I don't remember any Father's Days. I'm sure we must have celebrated sometime. I must have drawn a homemade card, bought a tie. Must have.

What I do remember was a Mom who was always there. Thick-and-thin. Never missed a day of work. Dinner on the table every night.

My Mom taught us most of what we needed to know .. mostly by example. And what she couldn't get to, we picked up along the way. Education was prized. College assumed. Family sacred.

Back then, people called what we had a 'broken home'. But there was nothing broken about it. All our needs were met. Love was in abundance.

I have three brothers. Each of them has a daughter and a son .. and a marriage. My brothers are loved beyond their wildest dreams and will be treated like kings this Father's Day weekend, as they should be.

Happy Father's Day to my brothers! They deserve it.

But I dedicate this Father's Day to my Mom. As we said back then, my mom was both Mom and Dad.

Happy Father's Day, Mom.

RobinJP, Tempe

And here is the rest of it.

Coming out is not just for gay people

Just ask Tyler! Isn't this guy great?

I've been out for 26 years. Tyler, obviously not that long. But it is the same for both of us. And for us all.

A lifelong process.

Today is National Coming Out Day. A to share and show support no matter what your sexuality.

Gay rights are equal rights. Diversity is who we are, what we are and what we stand for.



We're one house. We're one people. We're one family.

Beth Kerrigan and Jody Mock got word this week that their battle to get married was won. Connecticut's Supreme Court recognized gay marriage. They would be able to continue in their efforts to do what so many people want to do.. to create a supportive, loving, secure family life for their children and for themselves.

Their very public battle to get the state to say 'Yes!' then turned into a private moment of jubilation. They were overwhelmed.

And, thanks to the Hartford Courant, we get to watch it. Kerrigan/Mock: Take a look.

Funny thing...

I thought this blog was going to be about Tyler and coming out and how sexuality is as much a part of life for gay, straight and anyone else as race is as much a part of life for Whites, Blacks, Asian, Hispanic, etc, etc.

But it turned out to be about those two strong women and the Perfect Moment they had this week when they were finally able to propose.

Robin, Tempe

Old haunts and rainy days in New York

Four days. And three trips to the ATM. Then it was time to head home ... get a job ... or win the power ball.

We used to live in New York and right over the river in Weekhawken... a little town not only really fun to say but also the closest suburb of Manhattan (even if it is in New Jersey).

Now we go back for short visits, quick trips to do some business, see friends, and get recharged.

Funny how a place so big and not really my own can bring such comfort.

I grew up on the road as an Air Force brat and then in a bedroom suburb of Denver for the really disorienting teenage years.

But I worked in and around New York for 16 years. Perhaps those were the years I really grew up.

Whatever the draw, I love going back to New York.. of course I really mean Manhattan.. to just wander.

We did that last week on a rainy weekend. Food, music, friends. Those were the goals ... and RAIN.

Ok, ok. The perfect moment? Breathing in the dirt-and-rain smells, watching my sweetie's happy eyes when she got to stop at Gray's Papaya for a bite and taking a snap of the place we had our first date.



We giggled as we remembered sitting close, watching 'All the Pretty Horses,' trying not to accidentally touch hands. We stood across the street from the theater laughing about the electric charge that crackled between us even on that first movie date.

... and crackles still eight years on.

Robin, Tempe

Weebles perfect moment: roots and branches

In the Fall of 1932, Fay married "Cap" in western Nebraska. They began together a simple but rough life as farm people. They had three children, who had children, who had children.

And 303 seasons later, their 27 surviving descendants are gathered in a reunion cabin in the mountains of Colorado. We come from Arizona, California, Colorado, Ohio and Oregon.


Cappie died right before Tessa was born, in 2001. Grandma died in 2005.

Their children include my mom and her two brothers. There are two spouses, one being my dad.

My generation includes my two sisters and me, plus three surviving cousins and one who is with us in spirit. Among us, we have five spouses.

The newest generation consists of Tessa and Reed, Dominic, three of their cousins, and five of my cousins' children.

As I exclude myself from the activities to document the morning, I see a group working on a 2000 piece puzzle of the Vegas Strip. I did the hard part (of course) earlier and now they are merely filling in. Slackers.

My cousins are preparing apple-sausage crisp. Smelling good. My cousin Debora has just chimed the 5 minute alert. Salivary glands are activated.

I am delighted that our children are playing so well together, in spite of a very late night of sing-alongs and a very early morning of mountain sunlight. There is quite a buzz among the kids about the bear that got into our garbage last night (despite the tite-lock bin) and left paw prints on each of our cars (luckily no damage).

I am supremely happy.

Lori, Denver
Weebles Webblog

Special delivery on train No. 8

It was January 1945, the last year of World War II. I was waiting on the train platform of the depot in Caliente, Nevada for Union Pacific train No. 8 to pull in from Los Angeles. And I was nervous.

The man I was waiting for was a United States Marine Corps captain and I hadn’t seen him since the spring of 1943. Would I recognize him? Do I want to recognize him? Would he be on the train, or would he find some other way to get home without seeing me?

Of course we had been corresponding all the months, since I had met him on a blind date in the spring of 1943. He was assigned to the South Pacific and left for overseas in the fall of 1943. Now he was back in the states and had been in California for a couple of weeks — I never did understand why it took him so long to meet me....


I had been working for the past year as a telegrapher for the Union Pacific Railroad and had been stationed in all kinds of whistlestops (and I mean that literally). I had received a leave of absence and time was fleeting. Where was that man? Had he found a new love?

They were running two sections of No. 8 that day and the first section pulled in to Caliente. No sign of anyone I knew, so I asked the conductor if I could go through the train, on a search for a reluctant Marine (if that’s what he was).

The search proved futile.

Well, I had one more chance – another section of No. 8 was to arrive shortly. I was really getting nervous and my imagination was running wild. Here came that second section sliding to a stop in front of me. I started walking down the platform, straining to look in all the windows.

And there he was, I was sure of it! I took forever for the conductor to open the doors of that car and then out stepped that Marine Corps captain ... and our life together began.

That was my perfect moment.

Joan, Aurora, Colorado

Thank you, Jesus

I'm not sure where to begin!

My family and I have been through a lot. Since we have been married (1996), we have dealt with 4 car accidents, two back surgeries, three lay-offs, a miscarriage and numerous health issues.

I am a Christian, and am taking my kids to church and talking with them about God. However, my husband is "not sure" if he is saved, which in turn means I don't know. He sure doesn't act like it, but I digress. He is a good man in so many ways, that I have to leave it to God to deal with.

One day, we were talking about a possible job opportunity (he has been laid off for about two-and-a-half years), and he had a spark in his eye that I hadn't seen in a long time....


He actually said " thank you, Jesus" when he was telling me about something possibly happening for him. I couldn't believe my ears, but boy was I thrilled!

I keep playing back that moment in my mind. Especially when I feel like my prayers are going unanswered as far as him giving his life to the Lord.

That three word statement he made gave me hope. The opportunity he was talking about didn't turn into anything. And he is still as stubborn as a mule. But I will always play that back in my head to remind myself that God is working in and through him. And believe me .... God is the ONLY one who can get through that thick skull!

And of course, when I hear my 8 year old talk about God it just touches me to no end! She says "we love God and nothing will ever change that", and "if a bad guy ever told me to stop loving God I would beat him up and tell him NO WAY!". It's cute, but so important. My teenager has a more reserved attitude, but I know He is working through her as well.

Adrienne, Calif.

What's your Perfect Moment?

We want to invite you to participate in the Perfect Moment Project.

We all notice times when everything feels just right. Even if the Perfect Moment isn't a happy one, it is one that brought clarity, one in which we were mindful, focused, clear.

We're here to share them.

The idea for this project started to materialize about a year ago when some friends were sitting around complaining about the state of the world. We were talking about problems at our jobs, problems at home, and problems with the world! We were tired of hearing about the shootings, and drug smugglers.

People were upset about being at war. Others were worried mothers being scared to go to the store, because they thought they might get robbed. Some were angry about downsizing at work, escalating gas prices.

We were just plain frustrated. And a pretty grim group.

It was after much bitching and complaining that Sue started to think about times when the world was right! When we felt good about our lives. When things were perfect, if only for a moment....

Sue completes the story:

"That’s when I decided to ask my friends to break things down. I knew we could all remember a moment in our lives when something was perfect. That’s when I was floored. If you could see the looks on everyone’s faces as they remembered one perfect moment, it was transforming.

"All of a sudden, the stress was gone, the anger was gone, the frustration was gone. They all looked years younger as their memories took them back to their perfect moment. They remembered as if they were reliving those perfect moments.

For me, that moment was in 1987 in Show Low Arizona. It was a perfect day, mid 80’s, perfect blue sky on a softball field in the middle of a stand of pine trees. We were playing in the championship game. This was not any ordinary field, it was a perfect field on a perfect day. Perfect red dirt, green grass, the sound of bats hitting balls, and players yelling out directions. There was no outside world, just this game.

It happened in the sixth inning. I was playing in center field, 270 feet from home plate, looking into the sky and thinking that I had never seen the sky so blue. There were two outs, runners on second and third and we were up by two runs. That’s when I heard it, the sound of the bat slamming into the ball. It was headed directly for me. It was one of those balls that was a bit screwy, it was tailing off to my right. I got a good jump on the ball, and I knew that the only way I could catch it was if I dove, but it had to be perfect, because if it got past me, they would tie up the game, and possibly win.

I took off running, and felt I wasn’t even touching the grass, I was running so fast, I was floating. Then I dove, extending my arm, and my glove. I swear I could see the strings on the ball, it was so clear. That’s when it landed in the webbing of my glove, and I slammed into the ground. I couldn’t believe it, I had done it, I had actually caught the ball. As I lay on the grass in the outfield, I looked up at the sky again, and marveled at how blue it was.

We went on to win the game, and the tournament. I have not played on a field as perfect, or on a day as perfect. But, for that moment, on that particular Sunday, it all came together. A day that still brings a smile to my face, and a warm feeling in my gut."

We know that you also have your Perfect Moments and we would love to hear about them from you and share them with others. This project is about feeling good again ... even if only for a moment.

What's your perfect moment? Send it to Perfect Moment Project We'd love to share your stories.

Susan and Robin, Tempe, Arizona