a happiness infusion

As longtime readers of my blog know, I rarely write about my political views. This mostly reflects ambivalence on my part; positions that I thought I held absolutely and clearly when I was twenty-one are not nearly so absolute and clear ten years later. I can't write coherently on issues that are darkly muddled to me.

Sometimes, however, there is clarity and light. Sometimes, there is visible truth.

Over the Valentine's Day weekend, I drove to San Francisco to support the gay and lesbian couples getting married.

It was a drizzly dishrag of a day when I arrived at City Hall. My friend T. ran around handing out cheap umbrellas to damp brides, fussing over carefully coiffed hair and makeup. The line stretched for blocks, but the mood was upbeat and happy. At the entrance of City Hall, florists handed out lovely arrangements to random couples, bouquets that had been sent "To any happy couple" from well-wishers around the world.

There were children everywhere. Families had come from all over the country to show their support. Kids handed out daisies to grooms and helped their parents distribute bagels to the waiting couples.

The few protesters that I saw were ugly, both physically and morally. My friend D., looking at one particularly unattractive woman stiffly waving a neo-Nazi flag, muttered, "I think they're just jealous because nobody will marry them!" Looking at the twisted, lonely faces, I agreed.

Later I slipped inside through the inevitable metal detectors and armed guards. I was struck by the grinning faces I saw. I've never been in a government building where everybody was happy.

On the steps in front of me, two men nervously recited their vows, one of them choking up a little over the words. The small crowd sighed as the men exchanged rings.

The entire wedding was over in a few minutes, and the minister beamed. "I pronounce you spouses for life!" The men gently exchanged a kiss, closed their eyes, and rested their foreheads against each other.

I burst into tears. The woman next to me, sniffling as well, silently handed me a tissue. An elderly man patted my arm, tears splattering down his cheeks. None of us knew each other, but we watched a few more weddings together, crying during every single one.

When I finally left, I couldn't stop grinning. That morning was a happiness infusion, a jolt of pure joy. Sometimes, there is truth and clarity.