Today I will be testifying before a committee of my state’s Senate. Here’s how I am dressed — in boots and leather — to make a statement that motorcyclists are constituents, too.
I am doing this because I care about the safety and well-being of all, but especially us bikers out there.
Wish me luck!
This previous blog post explains what I am testifying about.
I spent the day on Saturday doing my usual things, such as taking some neighbors to the grocery store, and spending time with my Aunt. My partner and I also did some batch cooking together for what will be an incredibly busy week ahead.
Sunday dawned bright. It got to be as warm as predicted, with the air temperature about 63°F (17°C) which is highly unusual for my area in February. I had received an email from someone who visits my website and this blog and who lives in the area. I have seen several visitors from my hometown read this blog daily (or almost daily.) I’ve often wondered who they are, but until this one guy contacted me, none have revealed themselves to me. That’s okay; it is just a fact of life that as long as there are websites and blogs, there will be “lurkers.”
I put on my blue-striped leather jeans, Cop jacket, and dress instep Dehner patrol boots. The gear felt good!
I met my “lurker neighbor,” and we went for a nice ride on my Harley. We traveled for about 30 miles on the backroads and byways of my home county. It was enjoyable. Perhaps we’ll go riding again sometime.
My partner was anxious to get me out of the house. I knew that he was up to something (that cat got let out of the bag on Friday afternoon), but he wanted to surprise me, and certainly when I have a chance to ride my bike in the winter, I’ll jump at it. So off I went, and he got busy.
First thing he did was wash my truck. Bless him. My truck needed a bath badly to remove accumulated road salts and dirt.
When I arrived home, there were some familiar cars in the driveway and on the street. My partner put together a small party for me to congratulate me on being selected for my new position. Several members of my family, my aunt, and a couple close friends were there. They blew those silly party whistles, sang off key but with spirit, and shared cake with me. It was really sweet of my partner to do this. Ordinarily he avoids social situations at all costs.
Soon after my family and friends left, I began preparing dinner for the two of us. I got busy making some home-made yeast-raised dinner rolls and a hearty beef stew. While the bread was rising and the stew was simmering, I cleaned the bike, stored it away, and then my partner and I relaxed for a little while in our park-like back yard.
What a nice day. Filled with surprises and fun. And me in all leather, too — couldn’t be better!
Last Saturday night, my motorcycle club had its annual social event. About 100 people were there. I went to it alone because my partner has absolutely no interest to go to any social events whatsoever. I don’t even think about asking him to go with me to events like this, because he hates it and I don’t want to fight about it. It’s really not that important.
This event is typical: you gather, get drinks from the bar (in my case, bottled water) and talk for a while. Then dinner is served (in this case, a buffet). After dinner, awards are presented to the most active members of the club, then a band strikes up for dancing.
Generally, I am not too keen on attending social events like this, just because they are all so predictable, bland, and boring. They usually follow the same format, and while attendees are different, they all are of “a certain age” and behave almost exactly the same way from venue to venue. I went because I am an officer in the club, and had promised to attend to bring a slide show featuring the past year’s activities.
While I like speaking with people, there are times when the conversation lags because we don’t have that much in common to talk about. I don’t have children of my own, and there is not much similarity in talking about how your nieces and nephews are doing compared with someone else’s direct offspring. While I enjoy motorcycling, I am not a mechanic nor a gizmo-guy, so I really don’t know or care much about adjustments for better horsepower or what gadget is next on the horizon to add to the bike. And most of these guys aren’t interested in local civic matters or politics, so yet again, we do not have much in common to talk about.
A couple of the people at the table where I decided to sit were much more conservative than I am in their political leanings. One of them even had worked for the former Evil Deputy President, and talked about him glowingly. I tried not to say anything — my momma taught me that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all — but it made it difficult for me just to sit there. I finally got up and went to the restroom. I did not return to the table until the conversation had changed.
When the awards presentation was complete, I saw people moving tables to clear space on the dance floor. The band began to tune up. Like the others, I moved toward the back of the room. The conversation continued about mundane stuff until the band began to play.
The band was pretty good, but sounded awfully loud because the acoustics in the room were quite bad. I have mixed feelings about watching a bunch of 40-50-60’ish people try to dance. Most of them weren’t that good, but at least they were trying, and seemed to be having fun. Soon enough, I began to think that this was something like a cross between an old high school dance and a horror flick.
Because I couldn’t hear any more, and also that I was seriously afraid that a female club member might ask me to dance and I would have to turn her down (and leave her wondering why or worse, thinking that I don’t like her), I just found my coat and went home.
I thought about my discomfort, and realized that I just don’t like to be around people who are drinking. Their tongues “get loose” and they say things that they ordinarily wouldn’t say in public. I heard more than one slur toward gay people. Those who were saying those things did not know that I’m gay, and did not realize what they said. If possible and without causing a scene, I intervened and corrected each loose-tongued, well-lubricated person. But sheesh, I hate to do that. I do not hear these things when they are not drinking, and most of them are very open and accepting of me. Just not when they’re drinking.
I also remain uncomfortable to be in a place where people may anticipate that I might dance. I have always disliked dancing. I an a quarantasinestrapede. (Leave a comment if you figure that one out!) I guess this is where I am different (gay, straight, or sideways) — everyone else in my family loves or loved to dance. But not me. Never. Despite all the times they tried to teach me, my quarantasinestra-ineptitude prevailed.
Oh well, I tried, once again, to endure this thing. But I won’t again. I’m just not cut out for it. Sigh.
Life is short: keep learning!
Back in the good old days, that is prior to Sept. 11, 2001, flying on domestic US airlines was tolerable, and even sometimes enjoyable. The complaints back then were about weather delays and on-time arrivals. The number of flights from which to choose, and with my preferred airport at BWI having a number of choices, I was a happy bird when I had to fly. I flew so much that I got some perks and upgrades that were pleasant.
Oh how I long for those days. In my previous job, I flew over 100,000 actual air miles every year, mostly within the domestic U.S., but occasionally to international destinations. I would try to concentrate my air miles onto USAir if I could, so that I could fly them again for holiday travel with my partner to such places as Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Europe, or South America. I even had an affinity credit card that would boost my mileage on USAir.
Oh the good old days. Now they nickel-and-dime you to death with trying to make you pay fees for a seat in front of the wings, fees for checking luggage, outrageous charges for something they call a “snack,” and what really burns me is their ransom of $2 for a soft drink and now they just announced a $7 extortion attempt for a pillow and blanket.
They can shove that pillow where the sun don’t shine.
That’s it. I just called to cancel my affinity credit card relationship. I will use the last of my miles to visit my brother, and then take another trip later this year to see a very dear old friend out West, and then that’s it. My relationship with that airline and its nickel-and-diming policies is over.
And it’s so sad. It once was a great carrier. Now its full of crap. I hope this time and in this economy when they are in financial trouble, they just go out of business. Screw USAirways and its bottom-of-the-barrel scumsucking nickel-and-diming extortion attempts. I have listened enough to my friend AZ to convert me to using another airline from now on.
Real quick, added blog post: I had a rough week in saying goodbye after the death of a friend who I helped to get elected to assume the office that his wife, who was my mentor and very close friend, held for 17 years until her death this past February.
Upon return to work today, I was informed that I was selected for a position for which I had applied at my current employer. This is a big promotion for me! I won out over several other outstanding candidates.
Like Sally Field said long ago: “They like me. They really like me!”
Whoo-hoo! A celebration will occur in our household this weekend!
I have blogged before about my relationship with my partner, and thought I would say something again about that wonderful man of mine and how we have held each other close all these years.
I was dialoguing with someone via e-mail who has shared comments about some things he has read on this blog. He has expressed his opinions and views about what he would or would not tell his partner.
Gosh, I’m so old-fashioned. I truly treat my partner as my spouse, as if we were married. I was raised by observing that married couples always tell their mate what’s going on, things they are doing, what they are thinking, and such. And that’s what my partner and I do. We talk all the time.
I could probably tell you more about the history of one of our country’s major grocery chains than you ever would want to know. But this is interesting to my partner, and I listen. My partner could probably tell you about every style and manufacturer of boots because he has heard that from me. I could tell you what’s the latest news in his mother’s household, and he could tell you the latest news in our local civic activities and politics. I could tell you about what he likes to watch on television, read in literature, about his musical interests, or even what websites he views regularly. My partner could do the same about me (though I don’t really care for television).
To be honest, I am not all that keen on the latest goings-on of that grocery chain. Some of the television stuff bores me silly. I’m sure that web-geek talk and boots this-n-that, or who may run for what local office is not quite on the top of the list of my partner’s interests.
BUT: if he is interested, then I am interested. If I am interested, then he is interested. Seriously — we talk A LOT. We share everything with each other. Who I talked to about what, where I am going next, what position I may take on some issue, what TV show or actor is up for an award, and the gist of email that we receive. We are honest, open, and sharing.
We don’t hide things from each other, or do anything that could be perceived as operating behind the other’s back. That doesn’t mean that we do not have our own “space,” or our own relationships with others. Goodness, the volume of phone and e-mail communication in which I am engaged with my family and friends is astronomical. My partner doesn’t care and doesn’t really want to know about all of that. But if AZ calls or Clay writes or John, Wes, or Kevin drop me a note, more often than not, I’ll tell my partner about it. And that’s okay, because he trusts that my relationship with my best friends, family, “bootbuds” and community associates are all top-notch, above-board, and honest.
My partner and I communicate. We keep the dialogue going. That is why, I believe, our relationship has lasted as long as it has (almost 16 years), and why it will endure.
R U Kidding? It took me the longest time to figure out the short-hand code that frequent users of text messaging and instant messaging systems. I do not use either of these systems.
Texting drives me nuts. I really can not explain why, but I guess I am “of a certain age” where texting is not a preferred method of communication. I know that “texters” use abbreviations of certain words to keep the message short so it does not take as long to write as well as not take up as much room on a cell phone display. However, those abbreviations so abuse the English language that I can’t stand it. Just call me old-fashioned.
Instant Messaging systems are also something I choose not to use. I tried it for a while two years ago, but became annoyed with it rather quickly. What I disliked was that I would be working on my computer, and some message would pop up. At first, I would reply and continue a conversation, then lost track of what I was working on.
Then I decided only to respond when I was not busy, but even then, I found those who sent me I.M. messages would expect me to reply if I were on-line, and would get annoyed with me if I did not reply when I did not want to or have time to do so.
Then I decided to change my settings on I.M. to be “invisible” only for the certain times of day when I might have time to communicate. Turns out that there were fewer and fewer times when I had the time to have I.M. conversations. And my partner gets annoyed with me when I spend too much time on the computer when I am at home. He is right. He is my number one man, so I should be paying attention to him and not fooling around with the computer all night (on the nights I am at home and not at a meeting.)
At work, I discovered that my subordinate staff were spending hours and hours using I.M. to communicate with their friends, and not getting any work done. So eventually management persuaded the I.T. staff to block all I.M. systems at our place of employement. That is just as well. When I am working, I should be working, not I.M.’ing with people.
Anyway, when someone asks me to “text” them or if they can “message” me, using a text or instant message system, I say, “sorry, I don’t have it. Send me an email or do something really weird: pick up the phone and call me.”
Do I IM? Nope. It hasn’t proven useful to me, and has been more of an annoyance than a help. Am I old, and am I the only one who feels this way? (My partner doesn’t count. He doesn’t even use the telephone, much less other communications systems.)
Family and friends: this is what it’s all about. This is an additional blog post for today, to say that I feel so blessed to have friends who care, and family who wrap their arms around their little brother and go out of their way to extend their love.
My twin called me the other day as I was in a melancholy mood, reflecting on the life of a friend who just died. His call lifted my spirits a whole lot. He always knows just the right things to say, and really be my soulmate in spirit.
My partner has been calm, soothing, caring, and a great sounding board. Lots of things are happening right now, and he just sits, listens, and only offers advice if I ask. If I don’t ask, he just lets me rant, ramble, and recompose. He knows when to speak and when not to speak — which is quite an art in dealing with me when I’m an emotional wreck.
A buddy from Alabama reached out to me and shared some thoughts and feelings which helped me understand that he truly knows how I am feeling. His outreach to me when he realized I was down was so much appreciated. He is a wonderful, thoughtful guy.
Early this morning, my best friend AZ called me. What a treasure he is to my soul. He restored my flagging confidence and got me back on track. This man is such a warm spirit, thoughtful and caring.
Today a friend who I worked with on several local political campaigns came to get me, drive us to the church, and sit by my side at the funeral. Frequently she just would hold my hand, and say things to help me deal with my emotions. She’s such a wonderful human being. I’m so glad I have gotten to know her.
As I was speaking in the church with several elected officials as we were leaving, I saw my sister in the back. She came to be there just for “me.” I wish she would have come to sit with me, but I guess by the time she got there, the pews had filled. I was right behind the pew with all of our local elected leaders, and sitting among those who are treasured friends of the deceased’s family, right up front. My big sister told me that she didn’t want “intrude” and could see that I was in “good hands.” Frankly, that’s when I “lost it.” But only then.
Life is short: show those you love that you love them, and love ’em back. Hard! I love life, even at sad occasions such as this, because as the priest said during his homily, you can’t mourn unless you love. You know, it doesn’t matter if I’m gay. It doesn’t matter if I am a bit out of the mainstream in how I choose to dress or what I wear on my feet. What matters to the important people in my life is me — just silly ol’ me. I am indeed truly blessed.
I am planning to go to my state’s Capitol next week and the week after to appear before a state Senate committee to testify on two bills. The first one, which is a perennial issue for me, is on a bill to ban using hand-held communications devices while operating a motor vehicle. In short: a “cell-phone ban.”
While I was speaking on the phone yesterday with my district’s Senator who is sponsoring this legislation, I asked, “should I show up in my biker leathers?”
He laughed, and then realized I was serious, and said, “sure… that would be different.”
I know that most people who show up to testify on various legislation pending before our state’s General Assembly are attorneys, and many of them are registered lobbyists. They are paid by various interests, such as the wireless industry, to show up in their bland, boring pin-striped suits and wingtips to take positions on bills. They aren’t really interested in the legislation, but on what they are being paid to say.
I am a different kind of person. When I show up, it is because I truly care about the issue about which the legislation is addressing. My position on a cell-phone ban remains solid: make using a wireless communication device while driving a primary offense, and give some teeth to the resulting penalty for the offense.
Why do I care so much about this particular issue? I witnessed a riding buddy get creamed on the road by a cell-phone yapping SUV-driver. The crash happened right before my eyes. I could have been me…. worse, it was someone I truly enjoyed riding with, and worked with as a local community activist. Now his voice isn’t by my side when we engage our elected officials. I am doing this for him, as well as for myself, and for all bikers out there who are in peril from thoughtless people who believe whatever they have to say on their damn phone is more important than paying 100% attention to operating what easily can become a lethal weapon.
So yeah, I am a different kind of “lobbyist.” I am not being paid by anyone to be there. I am taking leave from work to go to our state Capitol and express my concerns to our elected officials. And I’ll be there in leather — for a reason. It demonstrates that bikers are a constituency, too. I won’t be representing my club or any organization. Just myself. Because I care.
This is what is truly wonderful about our country — our right to petition the government for redress. Our right to speak freely about our concerns. Our right to freely elect representatives in our local, state, and federal legislative assemblies and then persuade them to support legislation that addresses concerns of us commoners. That’s one reason why I truly love this country. Right or wrong, good or bad. Engage, cajole, persuade, extoll, speak up. That’s what it is all about.
And today, I go to the funeral for a dear friend to say goodbye. I worked hard on his campaign to get him elected to local office. (This is another way I engage as a civic activist: supporting good people for public office.) What a sad day for his family, and for those of us who loved him. Godspeed, my friend. I’ll sure miss you.
Man, the whirlwind of speculation about who will run to fill the vacancy that was created on our county council by the death of my friend is driving me nuts. Heck, we haven’t paid our respects yet to my friend who died! The volume of my email is incredible, and distressing!
Well, to make it clear, I invoke the Sherman Pledge: “I will not accept if nominated and will not serve if elected.” LOL! Actually, all who know me know that I am not a politician and I will not consider running for office. To do that would require A) losing what’s left of my mind, and B) getting divorced. My partner has vowed to disown me and run for the hills if I ever run for public office.
So rest assured, I’m not running. But I’ll be involved. From the sourpuss look on my partner’s face, he knows that I am already caught up in the whirlwind of political speculation and activity, with many turning to me to listen to my thoughts and ideas. Oh gosh, my partner detests it when I get so involved in local politics. But to avoid actually running for office, then I have to get involved otherwise. I have been involved on the inside of several local campaigns in county and state races. It’s been fun and interesting, but also very time-consuming. Just what my partner doesn’t want….
However, for now, we will properly and appropriately pay our respects to my friend at his viewing and the funeral, and give a little time for things to settle down. I will meet with my Board, associates, fellow politicos, and process a few thousand more email messages… then decide. We’ll see.
But this is why I’m not blogging on this board right now about boots and leather. My life is “temporarily diverted.” I’m still wearing my boots and leather, just talking about other things for the time being. I was invited to, and submitted, a guest post on the most well-read, well-respected political blogs in our state. That post went “live” yesterday. It was a tribute to my friend who died. I heard from a lot of people, including some in rather high places, that they thought it was about the most touching, sincere, and heart-felt tributes they have ever read. I’m glad to know that. The least I could do for my friend and his family.