Knock the Gobble

On our way home from dinner tonight, we talked about an adoption proceeding we attended on Friday. It was a second parent adoption, in which a step-parent adopts a child who only has one legal parent. In the Little Blue State, this means that kids with gay parents get to have two legal parents, with all that entails, including inheritance rights, social security benefits, and legal ties to both the parents who are raising them. Plus, any children of the adopting parent become legal siblings.

On Friday, a dear friend adopted the nine-year-old twins her partner gave birth to before they were a couple. In the adoption, the twins also gained a sibling, Caroline. After the decrees were signed, the judge called the twins to the bench and had them deliver the decrees to their new mom. Then, in lovely gesture, he asked their six year old sister, Caroline, to come behind the bench, where he let her bang the gavel to adjourn the court. Pretty cool thing for a little kid.

I adopted Nature Boy in a similar proceeding when he was less than two years old. He doesn't remember, so he watched everything with eagle eyes, and tonight we talked about all we had seen. He thought it would be strict, like court on TV, but the judge was kind and funny. He wanted to know if the same things had happened when he was adopted, and we told him how his grandfather had testified that he was glad I would raise his grandchild, how his brother and sisters had spoken to the judge about wanting to have him as a little brother, and how glad we are to be a family. He was quiet for a moment and then said, "There's one thing I don't understand. Why did the judge let Caroline knock the gobble?" It only took us a minute to understand that he meant bang the gavel, and we all laughed.

Here is the concluding language of the case that made second parent adoption possible for children in our state:

In fact and therefore in law, what does matter in the best interests of both Peter and George is that Gene Hart and Burke Shiri live in a loving and long lasting committed relationship. In fact and in law, what does matter in their best interests is that Peter and George have already begun to reap the benefits of the love of these two men and have, even in their tender years, returned it in kind. In fact and in law, what does matter in the best interests of Peter and George is that they are thriving in the environment created by Gene Hart and Burke Shiri.
Having stated the above and for reasons stated on the record the Court
concludes that it is in the best interests of both Peter and George to say in the
eyes of justice and law what is already in fact - namely:
- Peter Hart - shall be and is HEREBY the adopted child of Burke Shiri.
- George Hart - shall be and is HEREBY the adopted child of Burke Shiri.

Amen. Knock the gobble.

The Laughing Lion

My friend Songbird wrote a beautiful sermon, Where the Wild Things Are. In it, she talks about bravery, lions, and her own wonderful courage.
A few years ago, she came to visit me and we went to a museum together. She bought a mug imprinted with Tony Sarg's illustration of the Laughing Lion and I bought a key chain with the same image. I carry it with me to make me feel brave and cheerful.
Unfortunately, the museum is very wary of anyone reproducing their images, so I will make do with a link to their shop, where you can purchase a Laughing Lion mug of your very own. Perhaps it will make you brave and cheerful, too.

This Blog's For You

My friend Songbird has a wonderful blog, Set Free, which I read daily, share with my partner, show to friends, and generally revel in. I have known Songbird as long as I can remember, and despite periods of living in different cities and being out of touch, we have always had a deep bond of faith and friendship. And now, because of her, I have a blog!

When we were little girls our fathers were law partners: hers older and famous, mine younger and just starting out. Because Songbird's father was famous, she got to meet other famous people. When Songbird met Nixon, I neither knew nor cared, but Captain Kangaroo was another matter, and I got a little rush of awe every time I passed the photo of Songbird and the Captain standing together. (Both of us met Pat Robertson and Tammy Faye Bakker, but that's a story for another day.)

The Songbird of long ago lives on in the older and wiser Songbird of today. Then, as now, there were books, music and church. Songbird could read by the time we were in kindergarten and skipped a grade in elementary school. She could memorize anything, and amazed us all by reciting the entire fall television line-up. (Once, when my father misplaced the paper, he had me call her on the phone to find out when a certain program came on.) In middle school, she wrote a novel set in the Napoleonic era, featuring fainting couches and broken hearts.

Always, there was church. Songbird's Baptist church and my Episcopal church occupied a huge space in each of our lives, and between us, we may have created the first, last and only Southern Baptist/Episcopal youth group partnership. And there was music -- I played the guitar (badly) and Songbird sang (beautifully) at church and in school.

Not long ago, Songbird's blog played matchmaker, and we were re-united. I am grateful beyond all reason to be back in Songbird's circle. She remains the same sensitive, insightful, and minutely observant person I've always known. More than that, she knows the trajectory of my life, which has had its share of ups and downs, and accepts me as I am. It feels like a blessing. Thank you, Songbird!

P.S. Here's Songbird when we were just a little older than her daughter, the Princess.

(Note that even in early adolescence her skin is p-e-r-f-e-c-t. I am still jealous.)