Are You Guys Brothers?

     The Christmas of 2008 is over except for the memories. For Tom and Susan, and Susan’s sister Carol who flew into Ft. Lauderdale from New York despite having fallen and hurting her ankle on her way to the airport, it was their best Christmas, they say, in sixty-two years. That’s significant, even with Susan and Carol being raised Jewish. It was Christmas they looked forward to as children, not Hanukkah, which was rarely celebrated. But their time with Ray and me was their best.

     Tom, who flew out this morning for a meeting with the governor of New York and who cried during the film Love Actually which we showed our guests after their meal on the 25^th, paused only to make ice cream sundaes, has no recollection of childhood Christmases, and has made that of others merry for the past twenty-two years.

     Milton too, who was raised in Brazil, and who asked for a plate of leftovers for the homeless man who sits alone each night on the bench outside of Starbuck’s and who is untouched because the local lore is that he has an easily-communicable disease, insists that it was his best Christmas, but he doesn’t know about the homeless man who said just “thanks” when given his Christmas meal. Milton is 35.

     What made it the best Christmas in their lives? Was it the artichokes, potato-leek soup, roast lamb, ratatouille, green beans, chocolate cupcakes, and iced snowman sugar cookies we shared on Christmas Eve or the cream of spinach soup, the chicken Wellington, wild rice, sautéed spinach, and hot fudge or caramel sundaes we had the next day? Was it the flickering of fifty candles in the room or the smell of narcissus? Or was it the stuffed baby deer toys or the Mark Robert’s fairies at each place on successive nights? Though all of that was thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated, it was none of that they said. It was the love they felt in our home, they insist. They felt safe and valued, embraced by the love Ray and I have for each other, which we gladly share with whoever is asked to join us in our lives.

     My friend, Patti Digh, the wise and wonderful teacher and writer, read an earlier description of our holiday plans and asked if we would adopt her. I wrote back and said that we would love to but the State of Florida won’t allow us to do so. It has ruled that, in the best interest of the child, a gay household is considered an unfit place to be raised; that gay men and women aren’t the best role models. Maybe next year, we should invite the Florida Legislature to dinner on Christmas. Maybe too, we should invite the Rev. Rick Warren, the man selected by President-elect Obama to open with prayer our national inauguration, as he feels that recognizing Ray and me as a legal couple would be like letting brothers and sisters marry. Perhaps, instead, I should invite Barack Obama and his family to our table. Maybe he too would cry while watching Love Actually with us as he, Michelle, and his beautiful two daughters enjoyed their hot fudge or caramel sundaes.

     But to enjoy the tree and all of the antique toys and Santas that fill the room, they’d need to arrive here before the evening of December 26^th. Most of our decorations have already been boxed and stored away for the year by then. We would love to leave them up all year because they are so beautiful, but then they would become common and less exciting. What we don’t pack away, though, and which they could enjoy year-round is the love that Ray and I share. That never feels common, though it does feel normal, and despite its daily display, it never loses its excitement.

     I hope that everyone had as wonderful a Christmas as Ray and me, and Tom, Susan, Carol, and Milton. I also wish us all a New Year that is filled with good health, serenity, and a sense of belonging.

     More than birthdays or any other specific day of the year, Christmas, for me, provides the clearest memories of times shared with others. I’ll often ask the friends who gather around our table at this time of year, “What do you recall as your favorite Christmas?” After initial hesitation, the conversations that follow are usually rich with feelings.

     I divide my Christmas memories into two groups: Before Ray and After Ray.

     Before Ray, my fondest Christmas memory is of the year my older brother Michael, his wife Nancy, and their five very young children were flying into Detroit from Des Moines through an awful storm on Christmas Eve. Dad took my brother Tom and sister Kathy with him to the airport. Mom, my little sister Maureen, and I stayed home in Birmingham to make sure that everything was perfect for them when they walked into the house. The Christmas records were stacked on the stereo, Mom’s traditional meal of oyster stew was simmering on the stove, and the logs were blazing beautifully in the fireplace.

     If they had walked in the door at the time we all expected Dad to return, it probably would have been a very forgettable Christmas. But Christmas Eve, the night to which we look forward for months with visions of perfect bliss, was spent restacking the records, stirring the stew so it wouldn’t stick, and rebuilding the fire over and over and over again. Dad called with regular updates about their long-delayed flight. Mom, Maureen, and I were very tired but I kept thinking about how exhausted my father, sister and brother were waiting endlessly in the airport and how very stressed Michael and Nancy must have been traveling with five little children, all of whom worried that Santa wouldn’t find them in Michigan.

     It was 10 p.m. when the back door opened and the haggard looking crew dragged themselves into the house. But when they did so, the Christmas music was blaring, the fire was roaring, and the oyster stew filled the kitchen with wonderful, welcoming smells. I don’t recall how late we stayed up that night but none of us went to bed until we were certain that no one was disappointed with their Christmas Eve. Everyone tried harder than normal to be awake, alert, and glad to be in each other’s company.

     I’ve never asked the other family members if they recall that Christmas as one of their favorites. My folks are now both dead, as is my brother, Michael, and the rest of us are in some degree of estrangement from each other. But the feeling of familial love I felt that night for everyone, made manifest by the adversity we all faced, created memories of that Christmas Eve as my Pre-Ray favorite.

     This Christmas will be Ray’s and my 33^rd together. Each one has been wonderful, primarily because we are so very comfortable in each other’s presence and we share the same thoughts about what makes Christmas meaningful. We love to decorate our tree and the house, to create the feeling of Santa’s workshop in our living room, to have yuletide music playing from the day after Thanksgiving, and to watch favorite films such as Albert Finney’s Scrooge, The Bishop’s Wife, It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, and every possible version of A Christmas Carol. We look forward to special meals and fresh baked cookies, to wrapping each other’s gifts and to writing each other’s card. Christmas Eve is the night for which we get most excited, even though we traditionally unwrap gifts the next morning after a breakfast of bacon and eggs. Ray will make me a big hot chocolate and he’ll enjoy the Kringle we order from Wisconsin for the occasion each year.

     Christmas is also when we traditionally give the largest amounts to our favorite charities, now being the Heifer Foundation (which provides livestock to poor people throughout the world), the Smile Train, and Doctors Without Borders, in addition to a local food bank.

     But none of that will make this Christmas particularly memorable. What will probably stand out for us this year is the fun we have had in making the occasion very special for our new neighbors Susan and Tom. They haven’t had a traditional Christmas for 22 years, having worked every holiday in that time. So we surprised them by decorating a tree and their house before their arrival home and we will create magic for them at the dinner table on Christmas Eve with candles, incense, music, delicious food, and the excerpted scene from Scrooge when Albert Finney dresses as Santa Claus and passes out gifts to all of the children on the street as he heads to the home of Tiny Tim with a giant turkey. Our friend Milton from Brazil, who waits patiently for a green card and ultimately American citizenship, will be with us for the first time too and he is so excited about the stocking that hangs with his name at the top that he can’t stand it. Milton takes care of both our home and Susan and Tom’s throughout the year and has become a treasured member of each of our families.

     When Ray and I reflect on what made the holiday special for us this year, it will be the memories we created for our new friends. As was true so many years ago for me the night my brother Michael and his family felt sure that they would miss the joy of Christmas Eve, creating happy feelings for others can be a source of true joy.

UPDATE: Susan and Tom arrived home this afternoon and she wept and wept when she saw the nine foot tree decorated with flickering candles, elaborately-dressed fairies, and baby’s breath. “Thank you. Thank you,” she repeated as she walked wide-eyed through her home. “I thought I’d never ever have a Christmas like this again.” Nice.

Dear Paul,

     Merry Christmas, my friend. Have you and Bob decorated your cell for the holidays? Are your greeting cards out? Is your big meal planned? Do you and the other inmates exchange gifts on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?

     I suspect that you have found a way to make each holiday just a little different from the boring routine of every other day in prison. You have said that you and the other priests in your unit are used to not celebrating the holidays because Christmas and Easter were your busiest times of the year. You didn’t have time to relax and enjoy the festivities. But you have childhood memories and I know that you recall with pleasure the many times you celebrated with Ray and me at our place in Brookline. So, maybe you and the other prisoners watch a Christmas special or the film It’s a Wonderful Life. Maybe you cook up some dried soup on your little burner and share it with those with whom you feel safe. Maybe the guards are a little nicer or the people serving food in the cafeteria are a little more thoughtful for one day.

     But isn’t there an intensified sadness among the inmates who have families outside the prison? Aren’t they a bit edgier or more volatile during this time of year? Do you have to be more cautious that religious resentments aren’t taken out on you? Do you find that you work harder at Christmastime to comfort others than during the rest of the year?

     I wouldn’t want to be in prison for Christmas or at any other time of the year, Paul, but it does occur to me that it’s actually possible to have the most meaningful Christmas ever while incarcerated. We both know that the true happiness of the holiday doesn’t come from the food we serve, the gifts we give or receive, the beauty of the tree, or the number of cards we get in the mail. The joy of Christmas for me is what happens for the briefest time in my life when I actually feel in harmony with others.

     There was a great film about the First World War when the Germans and the English and French were shooting at each other without stop for several days. Many people died. But on Christmas Eve, they ceased fighting and started sharing with each other names, sweets, wine, and song. Allegedly a true story, the killing and maiming started again at the end of the day, and officers were later disciplined for allowing the short peace to happen. But that moment of grace is what Christmas is about, at least for me.

     You like to know what we’re having for dinner so I’ll tell you. Our next door neighbors, Susan and Tom, are joining us, as is our friend Milton, on Christmas Eve for grilled artichokes, followed by our traditional second course of potato-leek soup, and then a boneless leg of lamb, roasted in garlic and rosemary, and served with eggplant and with green beans and almonds. Ray is making his famous sugar cookies, and at my request, double-dark chocolate cupcakes.

     For me, the joy of this celebration is the fun I am having preparing the meal while humming incessantly Silver Bells, the excitement that I see in Susan, Tom, and Milton about their first Christmas Eve with us, the joy I see in Ray’s face as he secretly wraps the gifts he has bought for me throughout the year, and the wonderful recollections I have of previous holidays spent with him, with you, and with other family members and friends.

     But there will be many people suffering terribly this holiday season. They have lost their jobs and therefore their ability to provide much of anything for their children. They are estranged from their families and will be alone in front of the television all day. They are addicted to heroin, cocaine, crystal meth, or booze and won’t be able to stop long enough to join in the celebration. They are angry and can’t cease hostilities for even 24 hours. They are without hope for the future, are stuck in abusive relationships, or are newly diagnosed with incurable disease and know it is their last Christmas.

     The holidays are what we make of them, despite or because of our conditions in life. If you are at peace with yourself and with your fellow inmates and guards, there are millions of people who might consider trading places with you if just for a moment to experience your serenity. If you have no expectations of what the holidays mean – of what ingredients are essential for them to be “merry” – then you will be much happier on December 26 than the legions of people who will feel let down because Christmas just didn’t meet their expectations.

     So, Merry Christmas, my friend, and Happy New Year. You are in my heart, and will be in my thoughts throughout our celebrations. Please think of us too.

Love,

Brian

     We had homemade turkey soup with mushrooms and wild rice for dinner last night. It’s a 33- year tradition in Ray’s and my home to enjoy this meal on the day we decorate our Christmas tree.

     Our good friend Milton helped us this year. He loved being asked to decorate and to enjoy the turkey soup. Our wonderful new neighbor Sue clapped with delight and said “I’ll bet that every one of those beautiful ornaments has a story.”

     “Yes, indeed,” I confirmed. “I gave Ray this horse on our first Christmas back in 1976. This hot air balloon we got after taking a balloon ride over our cabin in the woods in New Hampshire twenty years ago.”

     I love Christmastime. I start decorating the house the day after Thanksgiving and fill our living spaces with box loads of antique and hand-crafted Santas, angels, crèches, and reindeer. It’s our family tradition.

     There’s some sad irony in all of this for Ray and me as we celebrate the holidays while being bombarded with opinions on what constitutes the best family for children and whether the loving commitment of gay people should be recognized by the state. The restrictions placed on adoption by, and the marriage of gay people passed recently by popular vote was very painful for us to experience.    

     Apparently though, much to our surprise and delight, 75% of Americans favor gay marriage or civil unions. A new Harris Interactive poll shows that women between the ages of 18 and 34 are the strongest in their support (58% for marriage and 35% for civil unions) and men 65 and older are the least supportive, but even 19% of them think gay people should be able to marry and 42% believe in civil unions.

     Given those numbers, it’s hard to understand how the majority of people in California felt comfortable taking away the right granted by the state for gay people to marry, or why the Episcopal Church is in schism over gay issues today.

     Ray and I are perplexed by the inability of some people to celebrate with us how incredibly wonderful it is that we found each other and are so happy together. We don’t understand why a majority of voters would want the state to deny us the 1,007 federal rights that come with a marriage license.

     We are therefore very grateful when we read these poll numbers and when we hear from people who speak of the joy they feel with us, or who affirm their support. Two such messages arrived this week, one from a gay man I know who was responding to my new book Are You Guys Brothers? and the other from a heterosexual Christian minister who weighed in on gay marriage.

“My dear Brian,” my friend wrote, “I had to go to the Ecuador/Colombia border again yesterday and this time by bus (5 hours each way) and it afforded me the opportunity to actually sit and read almost all of your book.  I finished the last 10 pages today.  Yes, you blew someone else away with your honesty, frankness and sincerity.  I always found you to be the very picture of the upright and ‘correct’ example of our lgbt part of society. Now I have a rather different picture, a much more human one and one that I relate to even more.

     “I have to smile, as now I feel as though I know you (and Ray, too) much better than before.  For me your book has added a totally new human dimension to you as a person, not that you were ever ‘inhuman’.  I believe that I admire you and value what you say and do even more now, as you are a ‘real’ person! 

     “Your book also brought me to tears.  It reminded me of how unsuccessful I have been in my relationships with other men in the past.  I think I have worked on my past relationships but now I have a better idea of how I can do better in the future.  So, even though I was initially upset at myself when I finished your book, I am able to take a really positive view now. 

      “Thank you for detailing everything in your lives, the good times and the struggles and how you both feel about so many different things in life. Thank you for painting a different Brian for me and helping me to understand how a very successful same-sex relationship has worked and still continues to work well.  Continue to enjoy your life together and share your joys and happiness with others.

     “Thank you, as always, for all you have done and continue to do for so many in the lgbt world, even here in South America!”

      The heterosexual Christian minister wrote:

“Dear Brian,

     “From the perspective of one who was an ordained minister, it troubled me greatly that I became a de facto “officer of the court” every time I signed a marriage license and returned it to the registrar of vital statistics. That the ministry should be tied that closely to the government in such a personal ritual was both troubling and off-putting to me. The issue of whether it was a marriage of same-sex or opposite sex was irrelevant to the matter. What did matter to me was the lack of separation between Church and State and the State’s demand that I change my focus, even if only for a moment, from being a pastor to being a government employee.

     “There are currently numerous members of the clergy who have stopped presiding at weddings — at least until everyone can be legally married. However, I have come to the conclusion that the only way to avoid this conflict of interest is for the Church to divorce itself from the legal aspect of marriage entirely. Let the state have exclusive management of the vital statistical details of marriage as it does to the property settlement that precedes a divorce. This is properly the function of the State. Let the Church (or churches) have as their sole province the blessing of unions in the name or names of whatever deity they represent. Most of us will seek out a church that is willing to sanctify our unions and eschew those who treat us like pariahs — if we even desire a church ceremony.

     “The founders of this nation desired the separation of Church and State and that should be what we are about in this matter. Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s and unto God that which is God’s. Let the Church remove itself from defining what the state will or will not recognize as marriage, reserving for itself the religious blessing of relationships. Let the State find a mechanism to allow equal treatment under the law. Call it Civil Marriage … call it Civil Union. Let everyone be able to avail themselves of the legal recognition of their relationship.”

     Ray and I firmly believe that the civil rights issue of gay people being allowed to legally marry in the United States will be a major public topic of debate until every one of the fifty states chooses or is forced to recognize the injustice of denying legal recognition to the marriage contracts entered into by gay men and women. I expect to see the issue favorably resolved in my lifetime. Young women and men, if no one else, will eventually make it happen.

     Until then, we’ll continue to have homemade turkey soup every year on the night we decorate our Christmas tree with the many beautiful ornaments we have collected as a family throughout our marriage.