San Francisco became the city of love again yesterday when the 9th Circuit lifted its stay on same-sex marriage. Weddings began almost immediately at SF City Hall and continued into the evening.
These adorable boys were handing flowers to every newlywed couple they saw.
Because love is love. So simple even adults know it when they see it.
The last time I heard from Mark, in March, he said: “Remember that I’m human as I remember that you are as well. I’m not saying goodbye yet. I’ll be around for a bit longer.” I took it to heart, filled my sails with it and went about my life. He died last week. How very like him that he wanted to spare us the heartache of “goodbye.”
Via post on Mark Winchester:
Mark David Winchester, born on March 27, 1965, passed into light in the early afternoon of Wednesday, May 15th, 2013.
Mark was born in Greene County, Ohio, and reared in the area of Sacramento, California. He graduated from Encina High School in 1983 and from CSU, Sacramento in 1988. Mark then moved to Ohio where he studied at The Ohio State University and earned a MA in 1990 and a PhD in 1995.
Following his graduation, Mark was employed by GATX, first in San Francisco and then in Chicago.
In 2007, Mark was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. He underwent treatment at the Robert H. Lurie Comprehensive Cancer Center of Northwestern University from that time until he moved to Oakland, CA in January of 2012. At that time Mark resumed treatment, this time at UCSF.
Mark is survived by his parents, siblings and their children. But more importantly, Mark is survived by a wide network of chosen family and friends.
Mark died as he lived. Throughout his life, Mark was always more concerned about the comfort and welfare of those around him than he was about his own well being. His life was spent being gentle, caring, kind, funny, creative, patient, perceptive, and wise. He constantly used these qualities to make the lives of everyone with whom he came in contact easier and more pleasant.
Celebrations of Mark’s life will be held in Oakland and Sacramento on weekends at later dates.
November 2012. Mark and Moya.
Knowing that our daughter Lucy loves board games, Mark brought her several of his favorites so she could play them even after he was gone. We’ll play some rounds of Dixit and Magic Dance in his honor and will always remember him as we do.
August 2010. Mark engaging with Victor — an anti-gay-marriage “Yes on 8” man — on the steps of SF City Hall.
I wish I had a better picture, but Mark was amazing and even and compassionate with this fellow. He just kept asking Victor why we shouldn’t be able to marry and who that was going to hurt. Victor didn’t really have any answers and kept falling back on Bible verses in the face of Mark’s even and calm logic. Mark was indeed so very loving, calm, kind, and wise. And in the end, too damn human or we wouldn’t have to say goodbye.
Mark had a very long conversation with Victor. He had many insightful things to say later about this talk – including this:
“He seemed particularly surprised when I said that I have read the bible. He also noted that his grandfather is an atheist (and Victor prays for his soul) and was also surprised that while I and my father are on either ends of the spectrum of this issue, we still talk about it and other things. We both love each other very much. And that I am quite a bit more than my sexual orientation. I’m sure that Victor is much more than just a protester. It’s easy to get caught up in the us and them at an event like this. He is not the message. He is just a messenger. Misguided by his leaders and not really prepared for the onslaught of gentle discussion and questions about his beliefs.”
The Eighties. Oh the Eighties.
Mark and I met at Encina High School in Sacramento where he was a grade younger than me and was known for being brilliant, sensitive, and sincerely individual — and for wearing a cape. A human. A superhero.
When I tell you I live in San Francisco, you may think being gay here is just a done deal. And most of the time, you might be right: I don’t worry about who I am or whether I am or seem “out” to anyone else. My wonderful wife and child and I can simply exist.
Then I remember the irony of the train ride on the evening of Tuesday, November 4, 2008. A group of us took the F-Market train from the No On Prop 8 headquarters down to the democratic campaign headquarters at the St. Francis hotel, all decked out in our No On Prop 8 shirts, carrying No On Prop 8 signs and generally excited though uncertain about what was to be a long roller-coaster night of heartbreak ahead.
We were taunted on the train. A group of kids were seething slurs at us, and the slurs were not at all pretty. We were, basically, publicly humiliated.
It’s true so much has changed even just since then. Five years later we’ve not yet seen the repeal of Prop 8, but other states have managed to overcome the barrier to popular vote for the rights of gays and lesbians to marry. We feel the tide turning. But we still have a long ride ahead.
The beautiful newlyweds Loret (@lwaldal ‘s sister) and Aimee ♥ #washington #marriage #equality #love twitter.com/moyalynne/stat…
— Moya Watson (@moyalynne) April 6, 2013
Last week we took the Amtrak Coast Starlight up to Seattle and back for Loret and Aimee’s beautiful wedding on Saturday, April 6. The thing about these long rides on Amtrak trains is that you’re not just traveling – you’re dining, watching movies, squeezing through tight corridors, and generally hanging out with a bunch of people you don’t know. For an entire day.
When you go into the dining car for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, unless you’re a party of four already, you’re placed together with others who fill the table. Each time, you try to have conversations.
Conversations with strangers are wonderful – even when one is badly slept and unshowered on a rocking train. Conversations about our gay families though – even in 2013 – are still risky. Here’s what it’s like:
All in a split second, you consider the 2012 election result that approved same-sex marriage in the state to which the train is heading, stick the fact in your back pocket that 53.7% approved the marriage you’re going to witness, and by proxy your own marriage, and come up with the figure that roughly 1 in every two you meet, were they Washington voters and did they vote in this particular election, are going to be thusly supportive of the conversation you’re about to consider having.
And you try to evaluate: which one is this?
Caboose @amtrak #11 Coast Starlight #I‘mOnATrain twitter.com/moyalynne/stat…
— Moya Watson (@moyalynne) April 8, 2013
Not everybody gets this opportunity to have their relationship status a subject of national debate. Usually this is considered a good thing – a matter of privacy – but we’re global citizens, sharing the same world, the same country, the same dining car table – and marriage is nothing if not about a societal conversation and recognition.
I don’t always succeed in taking the opportunity to represent who I am, even in the face of a 53.7% chance of being met with frank approval.
On the train, I failed at the first meal, with the couple from Imperial County in California. Somewhere my mind made a judgment from within the context of the 2008 Prop 8 verdict of their home county, and I answered the dining questions vaguely, for which I felt like a deceptive and bad global traveler.
The rest of the conversations would go differently. With the mom and her kid, who seemed almost mirror images of my daughter and me and were returning to their home city near Seattle — with them we talked freely, and I thanked them for approving R74 – even though I had no idea how they actually voted. They reacted supportively – almost like this wedding thing is just a given.
Then there’s an entire other end of the spectrum. My wife Leanne was practically jumped upon by a self-professed conservative Republican who wanted to apologize for his party and wish us well whatever the hell we wanted to do. Eventually for Leanne it became a matter of choice NOT to keep talking to this fine fellow — she had other things to do on the train, after all.
What a difference indeed the five years – the ten years – the knowing of one out of every two – makes. I should represent like every other person who is alive today can, but I get this extra chance – to represent in the face of a flying social issue. I do try, and not always very well.
The flip-side of the 53.7% factor is the 46.3% factor. For this good reason and many better ones, conversations on our journey, still risky, are more and more important, rewarding, and hopeful — every day.
Moya Watson 