Deoliver47 has a Diary up titled "Happy Loving Day." Go read it then come back here.
It got me thinking about a story I have. A happy story. A story I've told in the comments here, but never wrote a Diary about. Well I am going to do that now :).
About a decade ago, an aunt of mine moved from San Fran (insert stereotype) back to the small rural town my parents live in with her partner of 35 years. Literally almost next door to them. I wasn't so sure how that would work out. I can't stress enough my parents are not bigots, but I also know they've never known an openly gay couple.
Marie is gay and darn proud of it. I wouldn't use the word "militant" but she doesn't hide the fact she is gay. Oh and she is like twice the size of me. If you got an issue with her she'll be more than happy to talk to you about it.
What happened when they moved back was both sad and a very happy story at the same time.
The town my parents and Marie live in is in Southern Illinois. We've lived here since the 1860s. My parents live in the house my great-great-grandfather built. My grandfather was a the only doctor in town for decades. He is known in those parts as the "baby doctor." He delivered more than 3,500 children, including me. Everybody knows us.
My father runs the local historical society and museum. On the board of directors of the community college. My mom is an election judge. Either could run for Mayor and win yesterday.
I say that not to brag but to bring context. There are still cross burnings around where my parents live. Not what I'd call a "liberal" place. That they would eventually embrace an openly gay couple, even if family, could not have been easy for them.
But they did just that.
Soon after moving back Marie and her partner, Gale, asked my parents if they could go to church with them. Methodist.
My parents aren't religious. I think they go to church more out of habit then faith.
Now I want to be careful here. Marie encompasses many of the stereotypes of a gay women. She is large. She wears a lot of black leather. She has a lot of tattoos. This is sad to say, but it couldn't have been easy for my parents to walk into church with her.
As you might guess things didn't work out so well. Nobody had the balls to walk up and confort Marie or talk to my parents. But it was clear she and her partner were not welcome. They could hear the whispers and backchat. My dad then did what I think is the coolest thing ever .....
The wheel chair ramp, front doors, heck if you pick up a Bible in the church my parents attend, it most likely says "donated by T.R. Young." T.R. would be Tommy Richard. I would be the fourth T.R. Young (we're not unique in naming folks in my family). My parents have a ton of money and we tend to give a lot of it away. A lot of their money, when they pass away was going to this church.
I think the figure was $240,000.
My dad let them know this and explained that since they were not willing to embrace those he loved they were screwed. The money would go someplace else. My parents cuss like once a year. He says as he left the board meeting at the church he said, "fuck you!"
My mother, for as long as I can recall, back to the mid-80s, has volunteered at a woman's/rape crisis center. They are going to get a big check one day .....