Judge Not...

...lest ye be judged. We can all have our own opinions but at the end of the day, GOD is the judge. And it is my belief that he has never and will never encourage hate or discrimination against any of his children.

This is a response to something a friend wrote about how accepting gays is just one step closer to accepting pedophiles and bestiality. I had to write a response, and since I have no other blog entries I figured I'd make it one.

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My sister is a lesbian. I have never doubted she was for one minute while we were growing up (she is one year younger than I). She didn't actually tell me she was a lesbian until she was 22 because she was afraid that I - her best friend, her sister - wouldn't speak to her after I knew the truth.

I don't believe this is a choice people make - why would someone choose a life of ridicule and discrimination? I do believe that people might choose to live a lie and play the Straight Game - they get married, have kids even, but guess what is going on on the side of the marriage? They cheat, with the same sex they are attracted to. Think about it though - if you were born a white girl, would you want to walk around pretending you were black? No, you are what you are.

Obviously there is a mental problem with people who are pedophiles and people who practice beastiality. Basically, those 2 groups are taking advantage of a creature (a child or animal) who has no ability to stop thier aggressor - either because they are too physically small or not mentally developed themselves, as children and animals are.

I don't know what it is like to be homosexual - I'm straight, I am a girl who likes boys. But I do know what it's like to watch my sister have to attend family functions without Hottie while my brother and I get to bring along our significant others (though I never have one, in theory, I could bring him no questions asked). I have watched my gay friends as they stand on the sidelines at weddings while everyone else gets to dance with the one they love, out of respect for people like my dad and the others who would be mortified at seeing same-sex couples do a simple thing like dance to Frank Sinatra. They are normal adults just like you and I and they just want to dance and play golf with the people they love. A homosexual relationship is a bond between two consenting adults. No one is forced, no one is forming the bond against their will.

I would consider myself to be truly blessed and lucky to ever be in the type of loving, fantastic relationships that my gay friends and family members share with their significant others.

No kudos for this one, sorry dude. But we can just agree to disagree - I'm not looking for a fight or anything, I just wanted to tell the other side of the story.

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda - by The Ducque

This is a guest blog post by my friend The Ducque. I loved this particular column so much (you can read more at www.bandon.tv) that I wanted to share it with everyone who keeps up with me here. Enjoy!

WOULDA, COULDA, SHOULDA

Dedicated to the Spirit of Arlene

(I wish I’da Known Her More Betta)

Sept. 1, 2006

Someone I knew a little died suddenly a few weeks ago. Without warning I experienced the meaning of grief stricken. Shocked, shuddering and overcome with huge uncontrollable sobs in the arms of my office mate I had a melt down. Now, if this had been my mother or lover or best friend this reaction might have made sense. Don’t get me wrong, this woman deserved my tears and to be memorialized. Arlene was dynamic, funny, outspoken and definitely a role model to independent women everywhere.

But this was a woman I’d only met a dozen or so times. I did like and admire her. When our mutual Colorado friend was in Bandon we always had lunch together. Arlene let me pick the huckleberries from her yard. And I knew one day…. when I had more time … and I got around to it… we’d do lunch, just the two of us. I had her number programmed in my cell for over a year and I coulda called at any time. One day never came.

At first I thought it was the dying alone thing that triggered my overreaction. Remember when Miranda from Sex In the City moves into her new apartment, and the neighbor lady tells her the former tenant died there, and it took a week to find her, and her cat was gnawing at her when they finally found her, and so Miranda overfeeds her cat and tells all of her friends to agree to check up on her if they don’t hear from her for a couple of days? Well, ever since I’ve been single that has been a primeval fear of mine as well. So, that must be why I cried so hard. The tears were for me and my loneliness.

I’m kinda glad Arlene won’t be reading that last pathetic paragraph because I’m pretty sure she woulda told me to get over it. That I’m better off with my own good company than settling for something less. Brutally honest at times, you always knew exactly where you stood with her. She embraced her retirement. I know she was happy with her newly remodeled home and her other many projects. She always told me about how appalled her California friends were when she moved to Bandon sight unseen. To her life was an adventure. She wasn’t afraid to pick up and start over. She filled her days with growing beautiful roses, not with regrets.

One of my first and most faithful of The Ducque column fans, Arlene asked me the last time I saw her why I’d quit writing it. I blamed it on Mongo, the disappearing Webmaster. She knew how to call bullshit. “Well, then find someone else to write for.”

Mmmmmm. Arlene’s message to me was, ”If you want to do it, find some way to make it happen.” It seems to me that most of us don’t take enough time out from our daily drivel and allow ourselves to dream. Or if we do, we procrastinate. One day I’m going to Europe…or climb Humbug Mountain…or make cookies for my neighbor…or buy myself a motorcycle…or move closer to my family. Whatever, we think about it and put it on our mental wish or “to do” lists. Usually, we don’t do it. But if anything is worth investing in, it’s ourselves. And we each need to find some way to make some of our own shoulda coulda wouldas reality.

Coincidentally, the last time I saw Arlene was over the Fourth of July holiday when aforementioned Webmaster was in town. Sometimes, the cosmos are in your corner. So, I asked him about restarting the column. And he said yes.

So this, my reentry Bandon.tv column really isn’t about grief or even about Arlene. It’s about living your life today and identifying your own shouldas. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was seven years old. But writing takes discipline and almost a half a century later I’ve never got around to it. So now as I enter my semi retirement I’m making a commitment. I don’t wanna die with a tombstone reading, “she shoulda been a writer.” I’m going to give it a try.

And, PS to my friends and family, if you don’t hear from me for a few days, please give me a call.

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Read more by The Ducque at www.bandon.tv