Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Rights

It is difficult to put into exact words the mix of anger, rage, weariness, fright, worry, and determination I feel after hearing of the Supreme Court’s rulings on abortion and guns this past week. That the highest court of our great country is now populated by a majority of people completely and entirely out of step with the majority of America is a problem many of us predicted when Donald Trump was running against Hillary Clinton in 2016, and these are the fruits of that disastrous election. The man who incited and executed an attempted coup of America, the man who refused to act like a true American and participate in the orderly transition of leadership, and the man who was more focused on illegally extending his role as President than helping us through the COVID pandemic, installed three of the justices who are now stripping Americans of their rights. All three of those justices lied under oath when they claimed Roe versus Wade was settled law and they saw no need to change it. 

Most people who lie on their job application or during their job interviews don’t end up getting the job, or are subsequently fired from the job. That’s how it works, unless you’re on the Supreme Court, where honesty and integrity and basic human decency no longer matter.

Many of us understand that this is precisely what the Republican Party has been working toward for years. It’s why I was so adamant that every Presidential election was also a Supreme Court election. These awful decisions are also enshrined in the current Republican platform, and the only way to begin righting the wayward ship that America has become is to vote them out in this year’s elections, and all elections, until they start speaking for the people they represent. 

I am lucky enough to never have been in a situation where abortion would have to be a choice for me, and if I were, I don’t know what that decision would be. But that should be a personal decision for anyone and everyone faced with that choice – because it is a choice. The right to choose doesn’t infringe on anyone else’s rights – taking away that choice absolutely does. 

For those who don’t believe abortion should be allowed, you absolutely have the right to those beliefs, and you have the right to not have an abortion. If you’ve been raped as a teenage girl, you have the right to carry the baby to term. If you have an ectopic pregnancy that will ultimately end up killing you, you have the right to see it through whatever might result. What you don’t have the right to do is tell another woman she can’t make her own choices. 

Our country must start to speak out against these decisions, and then we must vote against the party whose platform is officially against choice, against marriage equality, and against the very rights for which America was created. 

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Lulled By the Sea, An Undertow of Downtime: BroSox Adventure 2022

When Skip and I embarked upon our very first BroSox Adventure, we were in our thirties, but could do it up like we were in our twenties, and we often did. These days, in our forties, our adventures have taken on a new tone, shifting as the world has so dramatically shifted over the past few years, and all happily for the better. So it was that we entered Boston on Friday afternoon, with a sky that suddenly parted to reveal the sun and a vast expanse of blue. In our pre-planning expeditions, I’d proposed a loose sea theme, envisioning loads of time in the Seaport and walking along the harbor. In the back of my head, I also had a back-up plan of a Downtime/Downtown theme if the seaside proved unwieldy for weather or any other reason. 

Luckily, the sea and the water cooperated, and we began with an omakase style diner at Zuma, which was a belated birthday gift for Skip. Andy and I had enjoyed this very dinner a few birthdays ago, but this time I would be sharing it with someone who loved sushi as much as I did, and the meal did not disappoint. 

As we sat there enjoying each of the many courses, a lovely woman at the table next to us overheard some of our banter, and when her husband left the table for a moment she leaned over and asked if we were a couple. 

“Oh God no,” I blurted out, to Skip’s bemused chuckle, and he promptly brought her up to speed on our friendship. After her husband returned, we went back to our own conversations and I expressed concern/confusion over why some have assumed we were a couple. “I talk to everyone like this,” I said.

“No, you don’t,” he countered. “We have our own banter.” And I realized he was right. It was a combination of whatever separate ways we might have with wit, and the way those wits complemented and collided at times. It was the language of friendship – the kind that is unique to each friend – and I would understand it more as the weekend wore on.

The next morning we arrived in the Seaport, taking an early stroll along the harbor, drinking in the scent and sight of the ocean. On the way, Skip waxed rhapsodic about a certain New England clam chowder bread bowl that he got at Fanueil Hall, and suddenly there was no other choice for lunch. We wound our way back along the harbor, ducking onto the edge of downtown before arriving at the food hall and paying through our eyes for a bread bowl that was worth every one of its many pennies. 

The sea was in the air, and our seaside excursion was demanding a siesta. In the unsaid agreement of two friends who could feel their way together without cluttered conversation, we headed back to the condo for an afternoon siesta and some stoop gazing before the game. 

Skip had brought a few games, including one called ‘The Mind’ which requires the players to be ‘in sync’ with one another – and we did passably well. It re-enforced the notion of being at a place in our friendship where we simply maneuvered our way effortlessly through the ebb and flow of a Boston weekend where downtime and quick naps were more important than bar-hopping or midnight wanderings through Chinatown hunting for Peking duck. Not that our adventures on either front are at an end ~ we just found enough fun playing a few games while looking out over Braddock Park before departing for the game. 

As for the game, it was a bit of a bust. The Fenway frank was easily the best part, as the Sox did not play well at all, and when they were down 11-2 before the 8th, we both had had our fill, so we joined the throngs in departing the carnage a bit early. That meant we also missed a surprise appearance by Neil Diamond for his signature Red Sox song ‘Sweet Caroline’, but I think we were both ok with it. The weather had turned on us, and it was dipping into the 50’s by the time we shuffled back into the condo for a relatively early night. 

Getting older is always a crap shoot. Sometimes it’s gratifying and grand – the gaining of certain wisdom and knowledge more than worth the wrinkles and gray hair – and sometimes it’s terrifying and worrisome – the health issues, the loss of people you know and love, the changing world that feels so strange and unlike the world in which we grew up. The only way to get through it with any sense of safety and happiness is to create a circle of friends and family who always have your back, who make the space where you feel comfortable and appreciated. When you find your tribe you suddenly feel like you can make it through the tough times. Skip is part of that tribe for me, and I’m grateful for getting to share another year of BroSox Adventures with him. 

 

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Because Pride Still Matters

Ballet dancers and hairdressers and drag queens made it safe for football players to come out and not the other way around. Effeminate men who couldn’t hide who they were and were constantly told they were weak—because our misogynistic culture associates femininity with weakness—those guys made it safe for masculine men to come out.” ~ Dan Savage

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A Trio of Summer Smiles

The third day of summer is at hand, and the first Friday of summer at the same time, so despite the unexpected work day at the office (plans were canceled at the last minute) I’m still going to ride through the hours in a state of hopeful happiness as the heat rises for the weekend. 

To welcome that heat and humidity, here is a trio of blooms currently dotting the backyard, bringing a happy face to our poolside lounging. 

Summer living is supposed to be easy – relaxed and loose – mirroring the carefree days of childhood, the joy of holidays, the sunny sweet spot of a mid-afternoon siesta. That spirit is something I will attempt to conjure again, and I will try to carry it through the day. Happy Friday… Happy Summer.

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Madonna: Finally Enough Love

At the time of this posting the first format of Madonna’s dance hit collection – ‘Finally Enough Love‘ – will have been released, the perfect soundtrack to the summer that’s ahead. The full 50-song set drops later in August, and Madonna has been back in the promotional spotlight, performing at a Gay Pride event tonight to get us all pumped for the new release. While I’d prefer new music, Madonna’s classic dance vibes will easily do for the summer. ‘Vogue‘, ‘Turn Up the Radio‘, ‘Celebration‘, ‘Music‘, ‘Ray of Light‘ and ‘Express Yourself’ have all formed the backbones of summer sounds over the last three decades. Get up on the dance floor!

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Dazzler of the Day: Fabio Bonavento

His fashion site just launched some fabulous terry cloth shorts, and ever since I was a kid celebrating a birthday at Burger King in a terry cloth romper, I’ve adored the fabric, especially for summer. For Fabio Bonavento, combining fashion and feel-good moments is one of life’s greatest pleasures. He earns this Dazzler of the Day feature for all of his creative endeavors, more of which can be found here. His Fafabon brand celebrates a lifestyle of inclusivity and pride, perfect for this particular month. 

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Little Drops of Sun on the Ground

These are some of the happiest little flowers, opening just as the summer season begins. Called ‘sundrops’ by some, for obvious reasons, and ‘evening primrose’ by others, for the way they open mostly at dawn or dusk, and Oenothera by a plant-loving nerd like myself, they are, no matter what you call them, bright and cheery harbingers of the sunny season. 

They can also colonize a patch of the garden quite quickly, perhaps too quickly if you have strict boundaries. Personally, I like a tough little cookie, especially when it brightens a summer morning. 

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Dazzler of the Day: Billy Reilich

Not-quite-fresh from Ellen’s garden, where he portrayed Nick the Gardener a few years ago, Billy Reilich has entered the OnlyFans world, where he’s been greeted with the expected reception someone well-built and handsome demands. That’s more than enough to crown him Dazzler of the Day, and second acts are always welcome here.

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Our Summer Friend Clem

She’s been with us since we moved into our home twenty years ago.

When I realized we had a lamp post in our yard, I immediately went out and got a standard-issue clematis – the basic variety in plain purple that winds itself up and around whatever is available to climb (with some help) and comes back year after year if made decently comfortable. 

Clematis follows the trajectory of many vines: the first year it sleeps, the second year it creeps, and the third year it leaps. It’s been leaping for a while now, and though there are years when I neglect it, or forget to tie it up during its main growth spurt in spring, it’s still throwing our flowers and beauty with reliable and consistent attitude

Clem likes her arms and branches warm, high, and dry, while her roots enjoy shade and water. I’ve indulged her in that respect, planting a ground cover of sedum to keep her patch of earth shaded during the day, and I’ve been fertilizing her well to keep both sedum and her own roots happy and well-fed. Just a little effort brings forth spectacular blooms as seen here, made more remarkable for their appearance at eye-level, and welcome masking of a rather dour lamp post. 

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Song for a Summer Night

There is a small sliver of irony in this summer song, given the fact that I no longer drink wine, but others do, and summer is definitely a time for enjoying liquid nourishment, even if mine doesn’t include alcohol. Mocktails work just as well, and are better for keeping hydrated anyway. Drama arrives in a song, and has no need for hard drinks to aid in its pesky, if occasionally exciting, madness. 

Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
I walked in town on silver spurs that jingled to
A song that I had only sang to just a few
She saw my silver spurs and said let’s pass some time
And I will give to you summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine

Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time
And I will give to you summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
My eyes grew heavy and my lips they could not speak
I tried to get up but I couldn’t find my feet
She reassured me with an unfamiliar line
And then she gave to me more summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine
The era of grand and elaborate summer parties has long since departed. These days we keep our gatherings to a minimum. Summer is more enjoyable that way, and somehow there is just as much excitement. All it takes is a song, a breeze, and a couple of candles to light the night. 

Strawberries cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time
And I will give to you summer wine
Mmm-mm summer wine
When I woke up the sun was shining in my eyes
My silver spurs were gone, my head felt twice its size
She took my silver spurs, a dollar and a dime
And left me cravin’ for more summer wine
Oh, oh summer wine

The pool glows differently when viewed through the lens of darkness and night, not unlike the different glow one gets from summer wine. While that view has shifted for me, the thrill of a summer night remains the same. Beauty and heat and moths drawn by the light, and the possibility of a midnight dip to quell the sweat. 

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Summer, and How We Used to Live

It was during the summer of 2000 when ‘How We Used to Live’ by Saint Etienne came pouring out of the speakers of my stereo in the Boston condo, and I was packing for a week in Provincetown. To this day, the song signifies summer days, happiness, friendship, and now a nostalgic look back at how things used to be. For the first day of summer, I usually like to look forward and see what new song might inspire the season – this year we’ve been through so much already that revisiting a sound of comfort seems best. 

A rose scented June
A rose he pulled in June
They’re full upon the lawn
The doctor came at dawn
An old daily care
And Suzie Banana Stand
Through frosted windowpane
Your father’s middle name
From a train
And everywhere the snow falls
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away

‘How We Used to Live’ is a nine-minute rollercoaster of summer calm and excitement, from a magnificently languid beginning to a little lite dance party that begins to build and kick in at about the halfway mark. Summer ebbs and flows in similar fashion, never entirely one thing or another, constantly changing and winking and evolving. This year it feels especially variable, with hints and shadows of projects possibly to come, and the upcoming 20th anniversary of this website, for which preparations must be made. 

A veil of faded blue
A Ruben’s old curfew
One windy winter’s day
A Windsor market day
People say
Everywhere the snow falls
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away, sail away

She’s moving down the seaside
‘Cause that’s where he comes from
He gave away all of her records
Is that where she belongs?
Better think it through
Remember who
Is there something new?
Or is it you again?
Sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away

Summer, oh summer, how we have waited for you, how much hope and faith we have put in you, and how unfair it all is, for who could ever deliver all that we have wanted and asked? Summer is cruel too, and often unintentionally brutal, but we still love it so. And when have we ever needed an escape more than now? Summer allows for that, and we shall make it happen. Whether it’s a lunch by the pool, with some sweet and fizzy mocktail, or a night in the attic loft, lulled to sleep by the hum of the air conditioner and the pitter-patter of rain upon the roof, summer carries its secret delights. 

So take your red gown
And go down to the dam
To do as you please
On the streets of your town
The whistling kind
Shake it out of your mind
It could be the day
When you finally say
Sail away, sail away
Sail away, sail away, sail away
Sail away, on and on, on and on
On and on, on and on, on and on, on and on

Such secrets go back over two decades, when this song formed the soundtrack to that friend-filled trip to Provincetown. Kristen and I took the ferry from Boston to Provincetown, beginning a week’s vacation in that magical place at the end of the world. While I don’t revisit the past as a rule, I often go back to this trip. We were in our early twenties, the world unfurled before us filled with all the hope and possibility that youth and luck and privilege affords, and we didn’t even know or exert our power. Summer left us happily in flux, not quite entering our career years, though the more ambitious among us had their eyes on a plan (that most certainly did not include me, who was back in Boston after an ill-fated move to Chicago, and just finding my footing again). This little excursion was a break I needed, to simply have fun, maybe enjoy a summer fling, and return to the city satiated and ready to get serious about something. It was a summer to let go, and we did. 

Up the riverbank and under the viaduct
Causeway full of nice cars
The sand a distant dream
Across the riverbank
Cross the riverbank, don’t look back
I sail, you sail
(And on and on)
(To sail away)
I sail, you sail
(And on and on)
(To sail away)

Those carefree days come back to me in pieces now – snippets of a sun-drenched brunch, sipping a cocktail before the choreographed precision of afternoon tea, and lazily laughing with friends on the porch of an inn as the clocks struck midnight and we debated rallying for pizza or heading back to crash. We had no way of knowing that the memories we were making then would prove, for me at least, to be some of the happiest and most carefree I would ever make. Most people don’t realize that sort of thing in their twenties. I felt hints of it, little tugs at the heart that something special was afoot, but back then my heart attributed it to the possibility of romance and love – it never dawned on me that those friendships, those in-between moments, were the real stuff of life

And so another summer begins, as summers from the past flash across the mind. Summer in a song, summer in a glass, summer in the splash of water falling from a tip of grass as the morning dew jumps away for the day…

Do you remember how?
(And on and on)
(To sail away and on and on)
Do you remember how we used to live?
Do you remember how we used to live?
Do you remember how we used to live?

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A Recap Before Summer Starts Over Again

Our 2022 BroSox Adventure is now in the books, so while I recover and recuperate from a fun and relaxing weekend away, let’s examine the week that came before as we enter the week of Summer Officiale. On with the weekly recap…

Roses signified the month of June for one of my childhood heroes. 

How not to get a job in the future.

This homage to ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ began a long while, but only last week did I find time to conclude its enchantment

I do love a sweet treat, even if they’re getting slightly less sweet as I get older. 

America’s favorite pastime and a return to a happy tradition

A toast to Andy’s Dad.

Pecking away at the pretty petunias.

A culprit caught in the act and saved by its own cuteness. 

Pass the popcorn and pay attention as this country documents history.

Happy Father’s Day!

A summer meadow, just before the season begins. 

Dazzlers of the Day included Joaquina Kalukango and Stuart Sox.

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A Summer Meadow

There was a time when we would walk through a meadow, admiring the wildflowers and lying down on soft mounds of grass, without worry of Lyme disease or fire ants, and the start of summer would signal nothing but hope and dreams. I can’t imagine lying down in a meadow now, and I mourn all those children who won’t have such a carefree sense of joy. Of course there are other joys that children today get, I just wonder how much of it is natural and how much is manufactured. Now I’m starting to sound like the old man I’m quickly becoming, and that was not the point of this post.

The meadow is the point. Because while the meadow may now have new inhabitants, good and bad, it remains largely the same – at least the idea of the meadow remains the same. These days, that’s sometimes all that remains, but it will have to be enough.  It is an idea of summer freedom, of carefree moments, of sun and heat and happiness. For me, it’s a collection of childhood memories, and some adult ones as well, as summer visits for three months of every year, and we are constantly adding to our memory vaults if we’re lucky. 

The meadows of my youth were mostly just fields that went unattended for a few months when school was out, but the glory of a meadow is how quickly it reclaims its form, even after being mowed down. I admire that resilience and ability to bounce back so quickly after attempted destruction. And even when shorn of her waving grains of future glory, the spirit of the meadow survives, locked in memory. Before this summer even arrives, I’m looking back at some summers that came before, and indulging in a little nostalgia. 

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Happy Father’s Day!

After a certain age, every Father’s Day is special, and my Dad reached that age many years ago, so once again I’m offering gratitude and appreciation for the fact that he is still with us. My brother and I have been lucky to have had such a remarkable guy as our inspiration and role model for all these years. We love you Dad!

And to all the other Dads out there, Happy Father’s Day to each of you! 

 

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Pass the Popcorn

Are you watching the January 6 Hearings? 

Because you absolutely should be. 

This is our country’s history, happening and unfurling before our very eyes. 

It may be the last gasp of democracy as we know it.

If you don’t think that’s worth some of your attention, don’t be surprised if your vote, and your voice, are one day gone. 

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