Beyond the be-glittered streets of urban centers, the meaning of LGBT rights starts to sink in.
We were eating mashed potatoes and rhubarb pie in a booth at Shelly’s Northside Café in Baldwin, Wisconsin. Baldwin is buzzing with business activity. Minnesotans used to go here only for fireworks, skydiving, and beer on Sunday. A new bridge being built over the St. Croix means the suburbs are nibbling.
A guy was sitting at the next table with his back to us. His jean jacket had the arms cut out, and revealed his shrunken shoulders. A grey ponytail dangled down his back like a straggle of toilet paper. The pie was so good that it took a while for us to notice his tone of hostility. “Obama! I don’t give a f**k if he was here right now.”
The woman sitting next to him, who was shaped like a Dairy Queen ice cream cone, tried to shush him. She had a wise and kind face. I couldn’t tell if she was daughter or wife. “I don’t give two sh*ts about them gays,” he said. Followed by the typical blather about speaking your mind etc. It started to sink in, through the wonderful tartness of the tart we were enjoying, that my husband and I were somehow involved with this anger and shushing.
I looked up. The Dairy Queen lady caught my eye. She mouthed, “I’m sorry.” I would learn later that a different man sitting across the table had looked at my husband and shaken his head, as if in apology. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I have lots of strong opinions too. Maybe a few in common with you.” I am pretty sure I saw Toilet Paper's back stiffen.
It hard to know why this man’s family and friends knew we would be offended by his bigotry. We’re heterosexual, and except for my husbands hip t-shirt, pretty unassuming looking. Could it have been our Prius with out-of-state plates?
A fierce new civility is struggling to be born in this country - a cordiality that sees ugly talk for what it is. In the midst if the triumph of this Pride Weekend it is worth noting that the old guard is going down hard.