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A Letter to the President, Signed by Three Million

27 Friday Jan 2017

Posted by SaraS in Politics

≈ 1 Comment

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Women's March

This isn’t the sort of thing I usually do. I’ve never gone to protests. And yet, here we are, boarding a charter bus on the Eastside with a group of total strangers, on our way to Judkins Park in Seattle, with no idea what to expect.


We only decided to attend the Seattle Women’s March the weekend before. Back during our Christmas visit to Missoula, our friends talked about their plans to go to the march in Helena and we brushed it off, skeptical it would do any good. And again — protests aren’t usually my thing.

Then the Sunday before the march, I read a brief item in the paper about it, and the crowd they expected. And a good friend from Missoula emailed us some information about the march (and transportation options) from her contacts in Puget Sound.

Something just clicked.

“You know, we should go to this march next Saturday,” I said to Renee. I expected her to initially say no. I started thinking of how to present the case.

“Yes,” she said, no hesitation. “How do we get there?”

I started investigating transportation options. I found a group chartering buses from the Eastside but they were already full with 850 people. But that organizer let me know when another bus opened up (a bit farther from home). I made reservations and spent the rest of the week alternating between excitement and apprehension.


We arrive at the park and ride for the bus with time to spare, despite a Siri mishap that sent us the wrong way. Women with pink hats are gathered waiting for city buses. We spot a small shuttle bus across the lot and (correctly) guess that it is our ride.

More people gather at the bus, including a group of seven that drove down from Monroe. They load signs in the back. They pass out extra pink “pussyhats”. I had somehow missed the whole hat project in the pre-march media, but I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered since I do not sew, knit, or crochet. I’m grateful to the woman who made extras, even if the hat is a little too tight on my head.

Pink isn’t really my thing. Silly hats with cat ears aren’t my thing. Protests aren’t my thing. But, here we are, on a bus to a protest, wearing a pink hat with cat ears.

It turns out the bus has two empty seats due to some last minute cancelations. One of the organizers rushes out to offer them to a woman on crutches who was about to board a city bus with her daughter. “You’re my new best friends,” she says as she settles in her seat. I remember walking on crutches after foot surgery in 2012 and admire her determination to participate in a 3+ mile march.

The bus driver is a young man, friendly, helpful. He offers to take pictures of our group with the bus. We finally get underway.

On a bus with people I just met five minutes ago, in mostly-matching homemade hats

On a bus with people I just met five minutes ago, in mostly-matching homemade hats


The Monday before the march (Martin Luther King day, actually), I started thinking that I really needed to figure out my thoughts on this march before it took place. Where exactly am I politically? What did I hope to accomplish? Were we going just as a form of catharsis? Did we hope to make a difference?

I imagined myself, for a moment, discussing this march with someone unsupportive, someone who would dismiss this as just the whining of sore losers. How would I answer that person?


The bus pulls up to Judkins park just a bit after 9. We have plenty of time. Our group on the bus attempts to organize a bit, swapping phone numbers so that the organizer Janice can text us with details about where to meet the bus at the end of the day.

The sky spits out a few sprinkles of rain as we wait in line at the port-a-potties and then wander across the field towards the stage. I start noticing all the different signs. Sort of like the pink hats, it didn’t occur to me to come up with a sign to carry.

It is early, so the park still has lots of empty space. We find good spots to wait, up relatively close to the stage. We wait, take pictures, dance to music pouring out of the speakers, and notice the park slowly filling with more and more people. I attempt to text a few photos to our friends in Montana on their way to the Helena march, but the texts won’t go through. Too much traffic.

Only a few people here so far

Only a few people here so far

The rain clears up. We entertain ourselves while we wait by looking for clever signs. I find myself amazed at all the different people, ranging from children to men and women older than my parents.

Never piss off the grannies!

Never piss off the grannies!

I love this one. Also, note the phone in the bottom of the frame...

I love this one. Also, note the phone in the bottom of the frame…

I love both of these quotes.

I love both of these quotes.

The park continues to fill. The crowd now stretches across the park and up the slope we walked down when we arrived. There are announcements about a missing child (ten years old, wearing a pink hat — not a terribly useful description here). The crowd quiets for a moment, then cheers when she is found.

I am amazed how comfortable and relaxed I feel in this crowd. I can’t quite pinpoint my own mood, or the mood of the crowd. “Joy” isn’t the right word, given why we are here. But people are smiling. I start to wonder if the pre-march estimates I read in that newspaper article — 50,000 or so expected — were perhaps a bit low.

At last, the program begins with a moment of silence, followed by a reading of Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. More short talks. Calls to action. References to the many organizations that need volunteers. Finally, instructions for exiting the park. Exhortations to be patient as we make our way out of the park and onto the street.

The crowd begins to slowly migrate to the park exits. It is agonizingly slow — take a few steps, stop, take a few, stop.

Just as we finally exit the park -- looking back down at the crowd behind us.

Just as we finally exit the park — looking back down at the crowd behind us.


As I thought through my reasons for going to the Women’s March, I kept hearing the chorus of people on the right yelling “he won, get over it, you’re just a sore loser!” I could picture these people reacting to the march with the same words. “Why are you marching? You lost, go home, get over it!”

There seems to be this strange idea that politics and the presidency is sort of like a football game. Someone wins, someone loses, and that’s it. The winner gets a trophy and everyone goes home until next time. You might be disappointed, but you lost, it’s over, now shut up and go away. You don’t have a say anymore.

But of course, that isn’t how it works. Trump’s win doesn’t mean I’m required to reverse all my positions on how this country should work. I’m not going to decide that health care for all is a bad idea. I’m not going to agree that my legal marriage to Renee should be invalidated, or decide I’ve been mistaken about women’s rights all this time. I’m not going to reverse my opinion on public land and wilderness and sign on to selling it off. I’m not going to finally agree that all those climate scientists really are part of a Chinese hoax.

In other words, my ideas for what makes a good government may have lost in the Electoral College, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon those ideas.

The country elected a president, not a king. Those of us unhappy with this direction still have the freedom and the right to express our objections and advocate for what we believe is right. Doing so is not being a sore loser — it is being an American.

As this sign says, dissent is patriotic.

Yes, it is. And no, this is not from the Women's March. Rewind 8 years.

Yes, it is. And no, this is not from the Women’s March. Rewind 8 years.

Maybe this woman at a Tea Party protest in Nashville (February 27, 2009)  should remind the new president and the people running around in red caps that protesting has nothing to do with being a sore loser.


Eventually we are able to get into a more steady pace. I expect the crowd to thin out once we get up into the street, but that never happens. The people fill the street from curb to curb and spill out into the sidewalk for the entire march. I have no idea of the exact route, but trust we’ll be able to just follow the main crowd the whole way.

We hear a roar that, for a second, sounds like a jet engine. Then we realize it is the roar of the crowd in a “wave” coming from the front all the way to the back. This continues to happen during the entire route.

The landscape of people constantly changes. New signs, new people. All races, all ages. Many men, unafraid to join us with the pink hats. For a few minutes, we walk alongside a couple of women carrying Canadian flags. They confirm that they came to Seattle to show their support for the march.

About thirty minutes after escaping the park, two bald eagles circle overhead. Everyone around us stares and points cameras to the sky. Renee says, “I bet the eagles are wondering what we are all doing down here!”

We hold hands for most of the march, both for affection and so we won’t lose each other in the crowd.

Absolutely! If I wasn't here today, I might be at home reading a book...

Absolutely! If I wasn’t here today, I might be at home reading a book…


I admit I didn’t always see the point of protest, especially the ones that broke out right after the election. I wondered if the protesters had actually voted, and whether they had voted for the only candidate who had a chance to defeat Trump. What is the point of protest, anyway?

But then I reflected on my own life and what I value. My marriage to Renee, finally legal. My right as a woman to vote. The idea that all humans are, in fact, people. Including women.

So many changes in our world did not come about from polite political conversations. They came about because people stood up and said “this is what’s right,” even when those ideas were deeply unpopular, even when those ideas were not winning at the ballot box and were not championed by congress or the white house.

It didn’t happen overnight, and it didn’t happen just because people protested in the streets. But the protests did matter.


Somewhere on Jackson street we realize we are not as near the front of the march as we thought. The road slopes very gently downhill towards Puget Sound. The street is a wide ribbon of shimmering color, as far down as I can see, and I realize it is a solid block of marchers. It looks almost as though they will reach the water, and I wonder how close we will get. I wish I had brought a better camera that could do this scene justice.

Couldn't get a great shot, but all you can see are people all the way down Jackson

Couldn’t get a great shot, but all you can see are people all the way down Jackson

People bump into each other, but no one gets upset. I step on someone’s heels, someone else brushes by — we all shrug and smile and keep on walking.

The endless sea of people behind us

The endless sea of people behind us

It is hard to find the right words to describe the mood of the crowd. Many of the signs are blunt and angry. But the people themselves — the women and men that surround us — don’t really seem angry. Defiant, yes. Unhappy with the new administration, definitely. But also exuberant to be here, together, flowing down the street as one. Some of the signs attempt to mix anger and frustration with humor: “I’m not usually a sign guy, but geez!” Or, “I can’t believe we still have to protest this shit!”

I grab pictures of these when I can, but they are a constant moving target, often bobbing out of view before I can pull out my phone.

It is uplifting to be here. Empowering. I keep thinking, over and over, I’m so glad we came. I’m so glad we get to be part of this.

Beautiful

Beautiful

Are we? I hope so.

Are we? I hope so.

We finally reach Fourth avenue and turn North. Tall downtown buildings come into view.

Heading north.

Heading north.

Yes, we are!

Yes, we are!

Then Westlake park, where women beat on metal drums and the crowd can spread out a bit. We’re finally in territory I know. Soon we pass the Cinerama. Their marquee shows signs and logos for the march instead of upcoming movies.

Now playing: Women's March!

Now playing: Women’s March!

At last we approach the Space Needle and pause for a selfie.

Almost done!

Then the Seattle Center, where we finally can sit down and rest until it is time to track down our bus home. We sit on the ledge of fountain and chat with another marcher resting from the walk. We speculate on the size — it sure seems larger than the anticipated 50,000. She tells us that marchers were arriving at the Seattle Center before everyone had left Judkins Park. The people filled the entire 3.5 mile route.

“It was astonishing,” she says.

Text messaging is still spotty. By some miracle we manage to find our shuttle bus and the same group we started with.

We compare notes; someone looks up news about all the other marches in other cities. We learn that the Seattle march was probably around 150,000, far more than expected. I begin to realize that we have been a part of something much bigger than we ever expected. And I feel more hope for the future of this country than I have since November.


When we decided to go to the march, I had no idea that we would be part of an enormous global event. After we got home, we watched the news and scrolled websites full of photos from around the world as the estimated numbers kept rising. We heard from our Montana friends, who marched in Helena where the turnout (estimated at 10,000) far exceeded expectations.

In the days since Saturday, there has been no shortage of articles and commentary about the marches. Some call it inspiring; some call it pointless. It was likely the largest protest in U.S history — how that can be “pointless” is beyond me.

I am well aware that spending one Saturday in January in a crowd of pink-hatted people won’t, on its own, change much in our world. It won’t magically undo the election that happened on November 8. It won’t make Trump release his tax returns, get rid of his advisor with white nationalist ties, or choose a less anti-LGBT cabinet. It won’t make him reconsider a health care law that saves lives. I know all this.

But it did send a message to the president (and his cabinet, his advisors, the GOP congress, all of their supporters) that we are not onboard with him or his agenda. It was a massive letter to the president, signed by three million angry, inspired, and energized women and men who are not going to shut up anytime soon.

In the days since the march, I’ve done more things I’ve never done before. The phone numbers for my members of congress are now in my phone. I’ve made a few calls (and I hate talking on the phone, so this is not nothing). These are small things, but still, they matter. And, more to come.

In other words, I guess I never really expected the march to change Donald Trump.

What I found is that it changed me.

Voting

08 Tuesday Nov 2016

Posted by SaraS in Politics

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voting

When I was in high school, I was about two months to young to vote in the 1988 presidential election. I vaguely remember being annoyed by this.

So, the first time I voted for president was in 1992, when I was in college. I voted absentee since I was still technically a resident of my parents’ county. I must have done this by mail because I remember discussing the election with my roommates before sending the ballot off.

In 1996, I lived in an apartment in Chicago’s Edgewater neighborhood. My polling place was a little white church right across the street. I remember being amused by all the political signs that popped up like weeds right before elections. Looking at google maps, it looks like the church is still there.

You can see a bit of the red brick of my apartment building in this Google street view

You can see a bit of the red brick of my apartment building in this Google street view

In 2000, I still lived in an apartment, but now in Berwyn, and I was anxiously waiting for my new house to be finished. I can’t remember where our polling place was that year, but I know that I voted. On election night, we were out at a diner with friends and I still remember seeing Florida called for Gore on the news.

In 2004 I lived in that house that had been under construction during the previous election. I voted at a fire station not far away, early in the morning on my way to work.

In 2008 I was living in a different house, now across the country in Missoula, Montana. We voted at a school not far away.

In 2012, I was still in Missoula but now living in a different house, with Renee. We had exchanged rings in our “first” wedding the previous spring, but were still a couple years away from being allowed to make it legal. Montana let everyone vote absentee by mail. I was glad we had done that. People were still in line at polling places that night at 8 PM.

This year we are living in Washington state, where voting is primarily done by mail. We filled out our ballots at the kitchen table and dropped them off in a ballot drop box. Even at our own kitchen table, filling in the ovals about two weeks before Election Day, it did feel momentous to vote for a woman for president for the first time in my life.

I don’t miss waiting in line or having to plan for time to stop by the polls, but I do kind of wish I had an “I voted” sticker today.

Image-11-8-16-4-29-PM.png

Verifying my ballot was received and counted!

Verifying my ballot was received and counted!

As I was reminiscing about all the times I’ve voted for president, a few random thoughts occurred to me.

My Job has Never Made Voting Difficult

For nearly my entire adult life, I’ve worked at jobs with flexibility around time. I don’t punch a clock. I don’t lose out on pay if I miss an hour. There is no such thing as “being late to work” unless I have an early morning meeting. And I have some control over that — if I had to plan for time to go to the polls, I’d just block that off on my calendar and decline any meetings that interfered. It is highly unlikely that this would be a problem.

It seems like such a little thing, but not everyone has such a situation. Hourly workers lose pay while waiting in line. Someone working a particular shift can’t just show up late.

I have to admire the perseverance of people in other places waiting in line for hours. Voting should not take a big time commitment. It should not be hard.

My Votes

So if you add up all the election years above, I have voted in six presidential elections, not counting today. (And numerous midterms and local elections of course).

This makes me feel a little old.

Anyway, I managed to vote for the winner in four of those and the loser in just two. Not a bad track record! And if you remember all the presidential races since 1992, I’m sure you could probably figure out my politics pretty easily.

Really hoping to add another victory tonight, bringing it to five out of seven!

Questions for Opponents of Marriage Equality

29 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by SaraS in GLBT, News, Politics

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

lesbian, marriage, marriage equality, pride

This past Friday was an exciting day. My Facebook timeline exploded in rainbows. Sunday we attended the Seattle Pride parade, which was as exuberant and celebratory as you would expect.

But the celebration is of course tempered because I know there are people who are angry and upset, people who are somehow convinced that something has been taken away from them. I do find this baffling. Are marriage licenses a finite resource? Can only so many be printed a year, so now straight couples will be turned away by the county clerk? Will they run out of paper and ink?

How can allowing more people to marry possibly take anything away from anyone?

I don’t really want to rehash all the arguments again. I’m tired of reminding people that there is a distinction between civil marriage and religious marriage. I’m tired of pointing out that your church may enforce any rules or requirements it wishes on those it will marry, but it cannot and should not insist that the state enforce those rules when issuing civil marriage licenses to people who are not members of your church. Or noting that there are millions of heterosexual couples that don’t meet your church’s standard for marriage and yet are still legitimately, legally married, and somehow this never seems to bother you the way gay couples do (previously divorced couples, couples with no children, mixed faith couples, atheist couples. Heck, even mixed race couples probably violate some religions, sadly).

And I’m tired of the strange idea that somehow your religious freedom is abridged by my mere existence, that I am supposed to hide my life out of sight so that you can be comfortable.

The hell with that. I live my life like every other human. I will not pretend to be something I am not.

I keep hearing about people of “good will” who oppose same sex marriage due to their “deeply held beliefs.” And to those people, I have a few questions.

Back in December of 2013, Renee was diagnosed with what turned out to be a benign brain tumor, about an inch in diameter. It had grown slowly, probably for at least half a decade, but had finally reached a size that it caused symptoms that sent us to the ER on an otherwise normal Tuesday morning in December. Then an appointment with her primary care doctor. Then the appointment with the neurosurgeon. Then brain surgery. Try, for just a moment, to imagine the fear and anxiety around someone cutting into a loved one’s skull.

In the days leading up to that surgery, we did what we could to ensure that there would be no legal issues with the hospital. Made sure they had copies of our paperwork giving me the right to make medical decisions if she could not. Filed paperwork with the county to ensure that, should the worst happen, ownership of our house would pass directly to me. Pesky legal things that were a hassle to do and added plenty of anxiety to an already anxious time. Pesky things that perhaps would not be necessary if we were legally married. Thank goodness we had already created wills – we would not have had time to do that in those few days before surgery.

How would you, and your “deeply held beliefs” have been harmed if we had not needed to leap through all those legal hoops? How would it have changed your life? Would you have even noticed?

In the days after the surgery, I slept on a cot in Renee’s hospital room every night until she was released, and our amazing friends rallied around to help out. I don’t know or care what the nurses and aides might have thought – did my presence and my obvious love for my partner harm them in any way? How were they harmed? How would it have benefited their faith if I had been barred from the hospital room?

How do you benefit by making my life even more difficult and stressful during an already difficult time?

Renee and I got legally married nearly a year ago, in Spokane, WA since we still lived in Montana where it wasn’t quite legal yet. It made life easier while selling our houses and buying our new home. We probably saved a little money in taxes. And again I ask, how were you harmed? How did our real estate transactions violate your deeply held beliefs? Was the tax advisor at H&R Block who helped us file our joint tax return harmed in some way? (she probably made a good chunk of money from it, given the complexity of our taxes this year).

If you truly are a person of “good will” and you have no animosity towards me, and yet you want to make my life more difficult in these ways…well, I think I may question just how much good will you really have. Remembering again here, I am only talking about what the government recognizes, not your church.

Of course, marriage is much more than a collection of legal benefits like hospital visitation. taxes, and inheritance. Those are merely the most practical, obvious benefits that flow from legal recognition. If we are talking about the spiritual and emotional aspects of marriage, well, we’ve been married since 2012, when we held a ceremony while camping in Utah with our close friends.

On that day, we took vows promising to love and care for one another.

How did those vows harm you? How did those promises take away your freedom? You are free to believe that those promises are meaningless according to the rules of your church, of course.

If you can’t articulate a concrete way the events I’ve just described harmed you, then how does this recent supreme court ruling harm you?

Joy

Legal at last -- July 2014

Thoughts on the 2012 Election

08 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by SaraS in Politics

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

election

So the election has been over now for a couple days. We’ve had two evenings with no campaign ads on TV, which is very refreshing.

I actually didn’t plan on watching the returns Tuesday night. Early in the evening, before most of the polls had closed, the political commentators reminded me of sportscasters during a dull game, just talking to hear themselves talk since there was nothing at all to report yet.

We had to leave the house just to get away from the coverage for a bit. But after a short escape for ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery and a few quick errands (Costco was deserted; it was a great time to pop in there), we did our civic duty and watched the returns. And stayed up well past midnight to see Romney’s concession speech (which was quite gracious) and Obama’s victory speech.

Some thoughts about the election and the results…

About Voting

Many Missoula voters were still in line when the polls closed at 8 PM. They were all allowed to vote, although no one else could join the line. From what I understand, the last voter voted sometime around 11 PM.

This made me very glad that we voted early by mail.

Yes, my vote should be counted!

I am also glad that the state of Montana provides an online ballot-tracking page. A few days before Election day, I verified that both my ballot and Renee’s ballot were received and accepted.

About the Results

I don’t have a lot to say about the results. I’m glad Obama was re-elected, and I’m glad Tester beat out Rehberg. I’ve never been a fan of Rehberg and I’m amazed he managed to stay in congress as long as he did.

This article is a few weeks old, but it lists the top nine anti-science lawmakers. Rehberg was at the top of the list. This makes me even more glad that he is now unemployed: The 9 Most Anti-Science Candidates in America.

Another good link summing up the election, with a good reality check about the next four years: Next Morning Presidential Election Thoughts – Whatever.

Eight Years

For some reason, I don’t find myself comparing this election with 2008 –
instead I am finding myself thinking a great deal about the elections in 2004, when Bush was re-elected. I was not happy back then, not just because of the Presidential race, but also because 11 states had ballot initiatives to ban same-sex marriage. And every last one of them passed. Montana was one of those states; I wasn’t living here then, so of course I could not vote on that measure. But I was in the process of planning to move here.

It was a depressing few days after that election. There is something perverse about voting on whether or not another human being is worthy of forming a family.

I also recall there were some who thought that those ballot measures might have helped give Bush the election, by drawing out the evangelical and fundamentalist voters in greater numbers. I’m not a political analyst and I have no idea if there is any truth that idea. But still, it was depressing.

Anyway, what a difference can happen in eight years! This time around, marriage equality won in four states.

Maine, Maryland, and Washington voted to approve same-sex marriage, and Minnesota rejected a ban. I think groups like “National Organization for Marriage” are still in shock – they assumed that they would always win at the ballot box. I have to admit, I didn’t expect to see these four wins either. The world is changing.

I still think it is perverse to vote on the validity of people’s families, but if there is going to be a vote, at least it is affirming those families rather than trashing them.

Finally, Tammy Baldwin, an open lesbian, was voted into the Senate in Wisconsin.

All in all, election day was a good day this year!

A Brief Note on Politics

02 Friday Nov 2012

Posted by SaraS in GLBT, Politics

≈ 1 Comment

A Brief Note on Politics

My parents have been Republicans since, oh sometime around the Kennedy era. Before I was born. This is sometimes a source of friction between us; for the most part it is best if we just don’t discuss politics at all.

The thing is, they aren’t at all religious. They dislike the “religious right.” They claim to be pro-gay, and pro-choice[1], and I think they are sincere in those beliefs. They have just always believed that they will be better off financially under the Republicans — their taxes will somehow be lower, and so on. “Voting by their pocketbook” is one way of putting it.

They ignore the religious right wing of their party — a wing that has gotten louder and louder over the years. On rare occasions when we do discuss politics, they seem to regard me as a “single-issue” voter because I can’t ignore the Republican party’s anti-gay stance.

In an attempt to speak their language, I have occasionally attempted to explain that voting against the anti-gay policies is, in fact, voting according to my pocketbook since these policies, aside from being unjust, do have an actual financial impact on my life. I don’t think I’ve ever managed to make them see that.

Today I came across this article that lays it out.

Gay people pay higher taxes. One candidate wants to keep it that way and one has taken steps – and is encouraging more – that will make your wallet feel the impact of government on a more equal setting. It all comes down to DOMA.

Barack Obama believes that same-sex couples should be allowed access to marriage and Mitt Romney believes that they should not. And while these beliefs have not historically had much real consequence, in 2012 they do. It’s not just opinion, it’s not just position, it’s money in your pocket.

And then he describes five ways the lack of marriage costs gay people more, mostly as a result of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). Many of these issues mostly apply to people in places where same-sex marriage is legal (alas, not Montana), but I have been hit with this one:

Gay Tax – This one is the most obscene of all tax differences and, for unfathomable reasons, it is the one that no politicians of either party seem willing to address. If your brother covers his wife on his health insurance policy at work, it is a non-taxable benefit. If you, however, cover your wife (or domestic partner) on your health insurance policy at work, the IRS requires your boss to report the amount as income to you and they tax it. This can mean hundreds of dollars a year paid in taxes, just for being gay.

(As many employers in non-marriage states now honor domestic partnerships, this is not exactly a DOMA issue. Even if DOMA is overturned, many gay employees will remain subject to the Gay Tax.)

Read the whole thing for all the facts and figures and details. The final paragraph sums it up:

So while there could be a legitimate argument that our civil rights are a more important consideration than our pocketbook, I don’t think that in this election they are in competition. It is because of our civil freedoms and equalities and also because of our pocketbooks that I endorse Barack Obama for reelection on Tuesday.

I couldn’t agree more.


  1. Despite the fact that my mom really admires the Bush family (don’t ask, I don’t know why), she actually did write a letter to the first President Bush explaining that she disagreed with his pro-life stance because she was the parent of two daughters. But that was a very long time ago; as far as I know, she never sent any letters to the second President Bush.

Rant: Rude People

17 Friday Aug 2012

Posted by SaraS in GLBT, Politics, Rants

≈ 1 Comment

So, I kind of hate to post this. I have been terrible about updating my blog lately. We’ve had a very busy, but great summer with lots of good things happening that I really should be writing about – our trip to Utah back in the spring, some cool backyard landscaping projects, a couple pool parties, a camping trip, river rafting, a brand new truck, river tubing, lots of good bike rides with the dogs, lots of days swimming in the pool, and a relatively good visit with family members. So I sort of hate to go and post something negative.

But this incident made me cranky today. So there you have it.

We were at the courthouse to get plates for our new truck. Montana has an enormous number of specialty plates to choose from to support various organizations. They had a big display on the wall, so we wandered over to look over our options while we waited for them to call our number. We considered keeping our current plate (supporting the Spay and Neuter Task Force), but sort of wanted to try something new.

Our Old Plate

Our old plate for the Spay and Neuter Task Force.

As we browsed the plates, we heard a deep voice say something like “pretty soon even the queers and lesbians will have a plate.” From his tone you could tell he didn’t much like this prospect.

Now, I am not very confrontational and had no wish to get in an argument with someone in a public place. But his comment burned me. For one, there would be nothing wrong with a gay or lesbian group sponsoring a license plate. The “Montana Right to Life Association Educational Trust” has a plate, after all, and abortion is a controversial political issue.

But the other issue was just his derisive tone. And the fact that I really don’t think it was a coincidence that he chose to make this comment right at that moment when two women were standing there discussing the plates they wanted for their vehicle.

Now, unlike me, Renee is not afraid of confrontation (she is a combat veteran after all). She turned to the man and asked, “Is that really an appropriate comment?”

I think he was surprised to be challenged. He dug in his heels “well what else am I going to call queers and lesbians? It’s politically correct.”

Somehow I don’t think his comment had anything to do with “political correctness.”

Renee replied “you’re a rude man. And you’re teaching that to your son. That was an inappropriate comment.”

This went on for a few minutes more, with him focusing on “what else am I going to call them.” He threw in the word “faggot” somewhere along the way and groused that “its pretty common around here.” So there are just too many of those queers and lesbians here in Missoula? Or something?

Somehow we continued looking at the plates and agreed on the one to get (Montana Audobon – we liked the image of the birds.)

The new plate

Our new plate supporting Montana Audobon

Renee was still steaming. But I was proud of her. She managed the entire confrontation without raising her voice, causing a scene, getting in a fight, or calling him any sort of name. She just pointed out that the was being rude. That’s all.

I guess the whole point is, people can think whatever they like and believe whatever they like. I mean, I’ve certainly seen people out in public who appear to live their lives in a way with which I might disagree. But I don’t go out of my way to insult those people when I see them. I ignore them and go about my own business. Because I don’t see a need to be purposely rude to strangers.

(On another note – technology is cool. I drafted most of this post on my phone while we waited for them to call our number. Just edited and filled in a few bits later on at home.)

Rant: Rick Santorum’s Campaign Tour Bus

04 Wednesday Apr 2012

Posted by SaraS in Politics, Rants

≈ 2 Comments

OK, so I’m never going to be a fan of Rick Santorum. He is a bigot, he pushes against women’s rights, and his “google problem” that he likes to complain about was started because of vile things he said about gay people. I find it astounding that he is still in the race; not that it matters to me since I’m not going to be voting in the Republican primary. But still.

Incredibly, he’s managed to find an additional way to piss me off.

This is Rick Santorums Tour Bus with a Montana license plate
This is Rick Santorum’s Tour Bus with a Montana license plate

This is his campaign tour bus. With a Montana RV license plate, similar to the one I have on my own travel trailer parked out in the driveway. The difference is, I actually live in Montana. Unlike Mr. Santorum.

Here is a link to the story last night on KPAX: MT plates spotted on presidential candidate’s bus | KPAX.com | Missoula, Montana

Here’s the deal. Registering an RV in this state is cheap. It is a one-time fee for a permanent plate…no yearly renewals. It cost me $180 to register my trailer when we bought it in 2010 and that was that. It is, absolutely, a great deal.

But it should only be a great deal for people who live in this state and support the state in other ways.

As noted in the KPAX story, it is possible for non-residents to get these plates by establishing a Montana Limited Liability Company (LLC). This then acts as a resident under state law and can be used to register the motor home. It is perfectly legal, but the whole concept feels a little…corrupt…to me.

Why it Annoys Me

We don’t have a sales tax here, and our motorhome registration fees may be low, but we do certainly have a state income tax. Back when I first moved here, it did seem as though the MT income tax was a bit more than what I paid back in Illinois, so it seems we probably are in line with most other states in that respect. I of course pay property taxes on my home. And the vehicle registration fees for normal trucks and autos are renewed every year, and are significantly more that what I paid back in Illinois (back in 2005, I paid about $70-$80 a year in Illinois. Here, it is based on the value of the vehicle, so for a few years there I was shelling out around $300 a year for my 2004 Honda Civic).

So I am contributing considerable money to this state to keep it running. In addition, I live here. I spend my salary here, on goods and services right here in Montana, thus presumably helping to keep local businesses in business and keep Montanans employed.

In other words, yes, I get a really nice break on registering my RV for dirt cheap. But I pay for it in other ways.

These people who work around residency laws with their LLCs are not contributing to our state’s economy in the same way. Yes the registration fee tosses a little money at the state government, but they do nothing else to support the state that is giving them this great deal on their motorhome license plates.

Furthermore, they are cheating their own state out of taxes they should be paying there.

I find it annoying when normal people do this. They should be lobbying their own states to change their registration fees rather than using a different state. But normal people often don’t have much power to change their governments, so I have a small amount of sympathy.

I have zero sympathy for a politician who actually holds political power and influence.

Note to Mr. Santorum: If you don’t like the fees charged by the state of Pennsylvania, perhaps you should work with the elected officials there to change those fees. And put Pennsylvania plates on your damn tour bus.

(Minor caveat: I suppose it is entirely possible that the tour bus was rented from a Montana-based company rather than owned by Santorum. In which case, consider my rant against Santorum null and void…although I stand by my irritation with the LLC practice in general. And I’ll still never like the man.)

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