Sunday, November 30, 2008


I love words. But then I'm supposed to love words. I am a writer. Writers love to talk but they would really rather write. Words come into my head like leaves blowing around your yard. Now stop and think about leaves for a minute---you know how they skitter (now there is a great word.) and fly about. My head is full of skittering, flying words. If I’m lucky they end up in my computer and then on the printed page.

Words. Lesbian words, lesbian life and lesbian laughter and once in a while a serious thought. It is important that we keep the humor in lesbian life so we may face the tough issues with courage and still keep in mind they are not the only issues in life. There are everyday incidents that are too absurd to pass up. You will find some here.

There are words that make us smile, i.e."Is it my turn to clean the bathroom again?” or "Honey, can we eat lobster in the nude? where to put the butter.” Words that scare us and make us sad i.e. "Oh, no,another gay person has been killed." words that are friends, i.e. love, sex and chocolate chip cookies; words that are enemies, i.e. diet and chocolate chip cookies.
(My personal favorites.)

Love is a great word. How can people be against love whether it is heterosexual or homosexual. True love between two people is so hard to come by. When I hear the spewing of such venom against giving equal rights to lesbians and gays I shudder.

When I went to Michigan to be with Lady Love , I was employed in a large retail sports business. No shortage of "rednecks" there but I was determined to be "out."My employer
was in agreement and she told me if I had any trouble just let her know. I told her I would tell her if it happened but I would handle it. And I did.

Sure enough,about 3 weeks into my employment I came to the lunch room and one of the young men carried on a conversation in a loud voice meant for me:" I hate queer men and queer WOMEN!!"

I walked over and pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. I spoke to him in a quiet, even
voice: "Excuse me, I haven't met you yet, but I am a queer women and really you don't know me well enough to call me queer, perhaps if you get to know me better, I'll let you call me the old queer---only my friends can call me queer."

He was red faced and thunderstruck but he responded with a smile and polite conversation all related to hunting. He never referred to my gayness again. I chatted with him many times in the months to come and we had good conversations and we really enjoyed visiting.

He always treated me with respect, but he never attempted to call me the "old queer."

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