Pink Saturday 2008

Stopping traffic in the hood.

What's playing at the Castro!

Ah...with the man on Pink Saturday!

John on the street with the masses!

The sun set on a friend today and the world continued to turn on its axis.

California says "I DO"

Historic Moments - F. Ruggieri and D. Miller

Since we're on the topic of gay weddings, this blog is a combined effort. First, let me set the record straight --- we did NOT get married yesterday. I'm not sure how some of you got that impression (guess it was the text Frank sent to some that was a "little" misleading). We DID go down to City Hall and participate/support the significance of the day.

We cheered, jeered (more below) and supported those couples leaving City Hall with marriage licenses in hand. Not a huge crowd, but it felt very affirming to be with so many others. There were supportive crowds, TV crews, a readily available huppa, brass band, Ben & Jerry's giving out ice cream (and we missed that... can you believe?) and the crazies. Not just your "normal" SF crazies (rest assured - they were there too) - but your hate mongering, fear infusing, intolerant crazies (sorry to digress on John McCain's campaign too much....)

Now, we may be gay, but we are doing our part for the children by taking public transportation and recycling. However, has anyone looked at the carbon footprint of these crazies?? These "Loving Christians" flew to Australia to protest Heath Ledger's funeral (sounds like someone had a little Heath fetish) for goodness sakes !!!! They fly around, create OVERLY large hate signs and had motorized vehicles circling City Hall all evening. (It is the one time I can say that gas in San Francisco is over $4.50/gal gas!!!)

Perhaps in honor of the upcoming Olympics, there was a little healthy Hate competition with the Muslims! The Muslims got their message of hate and had a motorized vehicle too!!! (of course, no worry on gas reserves there) Not sure who the "Christians" were more pissed at - us or them!!! But, good on 'em.... glad the Muslims are spreading hate too!

Anyway, we stood, supported, clapped occasionally and then exercised our freedom to........... go have an Indian meal and head home to watch The View. We're not married and as Douglas likes to say, "just because you can get married ... doesn't mean you should!" When the time is right and I'm sporting some blink from Tiffany's, then we can talk. In the mean time, it feels good to have found each other and we're glad to have seen so many committed partners yesterday.

Now... just how do we keep the "loving masses" home in November????

A Little Father's Day Story

My father had an old pair of boots that I procured the summer after graduating from high school. I had a job at Sunset Lake, a SDA summer camp outside of Seattle, Washington, and needed a pair of boots for riding and such. The boots were old and worn and with my odd walk, the heels eventually worn down to reflect my rolling walk.

I still have them today in the closet and they still fit!

Anyway, I picked up a folder and found the following little story from my writing group (1993). Since it is Father's Day weekend, it felt like an appropriate nod to my dad. Thanks for the boots!

Happy Father's Day.

Of Friends and Phones

Alone, in my underwear and sitting at the kitchen table, I eye the lone Kraft spaghetti box laying face down on the counter, the used pan in the sink, and the torn Parmesan cheese package sitting half empty to the steaming plate of pasta and sauce. Picking up my fork, I swirl the noodles around and look at my watch calculating that I have eighteen minutes to eat, brush my teeth, and be punched in at work. Schedules. No time to wait for the spaghetti to cool, no time to enjoy it. Thank God it is Kraft's! Scooping up a forkful and shoving the strands in to my mouth, my head grimaces as the phone blares in my right ear; probably some idiot looking for an apartment.

Ring...Ring...chew...chew...Ring

"Hello, Johnson's."

"David?"

Great, it's some soft spoken man who can't fix his leaking sink and wants my dad to come to the rescue.

"No, this is his son, Daniel. May I take a message?"

"Are you a cowboy?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, do you have your boots on ready for a ride?"

"No, I'm eating supper." Sam. I bet it's Sam. He's talking quietly so I won't recognize his voice.

"Can you put them on?"

"I'm sorry, put what on?"

"The boots. I need to talk to you, do you have the time?"

"Is this about Puff Lane apartments?"

"...yes. Can we talk?" His voice sounds urgent.

"Sure, do you live there?" I hate apartment calls.

"Yes. Do you want to come over?" Definitely Sam. Time to find out what he wants.

"I don't know. Who is this?"

"Austin Roberts."

"Well Austin, I've got my boots on and..."

"Does my voice excite you?"

"No."

"Are you a big man?"

"Yes, about 6'3"."

"No, no. I don't mean like that. I mean below the waist."

"This isn't Sam is it?"

"Do you want it to be?" The voice continues in a whine, "You're not a cowboy."

"Who is this?"

Click.

"Hello? Hello? Damn."

The spaghetti is cool now. I grab the phone book. What an idiot! Let me see, Austin Roberts. Robbins. Robert. Roberts, Austin. I punch in the numbers. It's not busy. Good. I hope the little pervert is home. One ring. Two. Three.

"Hello?" The raspy voice is a woman's.

"Hi. I was wondering if I might speak with Austin Roberts?"

"Who may I say is calling?"

"David Johnson." Ok, I lied.

"Are you a friend of his?"

"Yes." Ok, I lied again.

"When is the last time you spoke with him?"

"I just spoke to him on the phone."

"Honey, I don't think you did. Austin's been dead fifteen years." Great! I'm getting phone calls from perverts in hell.

"I'm sorry, but I... I just received an obscene phone call from a man who said he was Austin Roberts. I'm sorry, really, I am."

"Well honey, you know someone called earlier today and I answered they just hung up. Maybe it is the same person. I hope they won't bother you again."

"Thanks for your time, sorry about your husband."

"It's OK. Goodbye."

Now I feel violated, stupid, and my spaghetti looks dead.

Ring ... Ring...

"Johnson's."

"Do you have any apartments?"

"No!"

Click. I hate apartment calls.

Random Quotes - Rediscovered June 14, 2008

One of my favorite things is opening a file folder and finding little quotes that I've copied down. I especially love it when I have not context and have to determine why I wrote them down in the first place.



In Genesis, God gave man dominion over the earth. Of course, Genesis was not written by a horse.
—source unknown

To be truly liberated, one must be able to stand alone.
—source unknown

That's why we have AIDS...to do a little population control in third world countries.
—source unknown

Oh well. He wasn't going to write Beethoven's Ninth Symphony anyway.
—source unknown

Momma, I want a tit!
—small child, front row of church

Date Night with Oleta Adams

The Rrazz Room in San Francisco is evolving in to a popular place to see very intimate shows. Replacing the Plush Room, or as Katey Sagal dubbed it, the "Plushier Plush Room", it is easier to get to by public transportation and seems to quite popular. So popular that for date night, I hauled Frank down to see Oleta Adams a full week before she performed.

Personally, I love to stand at Will Call while the hostess pours over the list of people who may enter and those who are not on the list. The man in front of us plied his way in by giving some story. Did he really pay in cash the week before? Or did they see the octogenarian and decide that he couldn't possibly be lying. Either way, he was in. We were next. And we were not on the list. Luckily I had the reservation printed and the hostess scoured the list one more time ... and then she looked up, rubbed my arm, and said, "Honey, we'll see you next Thursday!"

To be honest, I am not sure how the mistake occurred. We both had it on our Yahoo Calendar and sure enough, the alert showed up a few days later. I could claim stress, but I guess I was just so excited to see Oleta again that the days could not pass quickly enough. Especially since 15 years have now passed since our initial introduction.

Back in 1993, I moved to St. Helena and worked at a couple of restaurants. I was told that I couldn't march with my graduating class if I wanted financial aid in the fall for student teaching and I was just beginning to address the fact that my life was about to take a turn down a different path. Sinead O'Connor's Am I Not Your Girl and Oleta Adam's Circle of One were the soundtracks of my summer. In constant rotation as I drove to work, drove to San Francisco it would happen on many occasions that I would leave my car with Oleta singing Get Here and walk into Tom's apartment with the same song playing.

Prior to our first date with Oleta, a friend asked us to drive up the hill to witness some papers being signed with a notary. It affected our schedule but we were happy to help and modified our date night. We didn't know at the time it would be our last time to see our friend. So walking in the door of the Rrazz room a week later there was a sense to me that I was walking in with not only Frank, but the ghosts of the past as well.

I think I cried a little more easily when I was younger. I look at my list of favorite movies and probably 90% are a favorite because they hit me on an emotional level. Oleta got me twice on our night together. She is a small woman and sat at the piano for the 2+ hours of music. We were seated about 10-15 away from her and once the sound was adjusted for the drums and bass, she transported me to another plain. She seems like a good soul and has smile that can light up the room. When she wasn't singing, she was keeping up on the piano and having a grand time.

I think it is a good thing to witness people doing something they love, not that it makes our lives look a little drab in comparison, but because it is good to keep one's eyes open and see what inspires us and what keeps us engaged in our jobs and lives. I also think it is important to appreciate the people in my life, to look at the one I love and be thankful that during a show like this, I have a hand to hold and someone to share life's experience.