Truth smacked us in the face

Reading the paper this morning, reality hit us hard.  Derek McCoy, President of the Maryland Family Alliance, spoke out against gay marriage at the Easton Volunteer Fire Department last week.  Fearing Maryland may follow New York's legislative lead next year, he vowed to rally national organizations and the citizens of Maryland to defeat next year's planned bill.  He also vowed to take the issue out of the legislative process and force a referendum so Marylanders can decide if same sex couples should be allowed to marry.

We've said it before in prior posts, but it's worth reiterating.  When Keith and I moved here, we were scared to death of what the reaction of the local people would be.  We held the stereotype that our neighbors would be dumb, macho rednecks living a mentatility of fifty years ago.  If they knew we were gay, they would vandalize our home with nasty spray paint, if they didn't burn it down first, and for a Saturday night of fun, they'd beat us up and leave us in the marsh for dead. 

Yeah, I know.  What extreme thinking.  Unfortunately, both Keith and I have known gay people who suffered such violence for no other reason than they were gay.  We won't bore you with our stories, but you can see our fears of moving here weren't without basis.

For almost the first year we were here, we said nothing.  When we were at Carolyn's Stonehouse, a couple of people would hint around about us being gay to see how we would respond.  We simply blew them off without admitting we were a couple, nor denying it.  Everyone knew we were a couple and bent over backwards to make us feel welcomed and accepted in the community.  It became apparent to us we had to be honest and forthcoming with them.

The people down here in Toddville shattered our stereotype of the local people here and on Delmarva. They were very much with the times and accepting.  Sure, a couple of people had a problem with the gay couple who moved in.  We could see their expressions when we walked into Mr. Pritchett's store or Carolyn's Stonehouse.  But no one gave us a hard time.

After six years of going around town up in the high country to do our shopping, employees of the Food Lion, Royal Farms, Lowe's, Snow's Turn, and a couple of the restaurants we eat at fairly regularly have figured out we must be a couple.  We don't hold hands or kiss in  public like a straight couple will do, but I reckon they know two guys don't hang around with each other as much as we do for as long as we have.  They figure we must be more than friends.  It's something we know they know, especially if one of us shows up without the other and the waitress or cashier will ask, "Where's your partner?"

We get a real charge out of the talking heads on TV or the radio who complain about the growing acceptance of gay people.  "Why do they have to go around telling everyone they're gay?" they'll rhetorically ask.

Well, we told no one and still tell no one, yet everyone knows.  So we have to rhetorically ask, "Why the Hell do you care?"

Back to last week's meeting with Derek McCoy, president of the Maryland Family Alliance.  Let's not gloss this one over.  Anytime there's an organization with the word, family, in its name and the organization's purpose is to promote strong healthy families based on Christian values, you can be guaranteed it's members simply hate gay people.  Derek McCoy and the Maryland Family Alliance is no exception.

Obviously, we take exception to Derek McCoy and the Maryland Families Alliance's comments and stance on the issue of same sex marriage.  Keith and I will be starting our twelth year together.  So far, we have stayed together almost twice as long as about half of the legally married couples who tied the knot when we first committed to each other.  Derek McCoy, if you and your organization are about promoting strong families, why were those couples allowed to marry, only to bail ship, but we aren't allowed to marry? 

At the time we got together, Keith's daughter was nine-years-old.  Because we couldn't get married, I couldn't add his daughter to my health insurance plan.  As you push for legislation to make families stronger,do you consider the sons and daughters of gay people as being not as important as the children of straight people?

People in prison, people on the sex offenders list, people with a history of spousal abuse, and people with a history of child abuse or neglect can all legally get married.  In your effort to create a positive environment to raise strong families, are you saying all these people are good role models, but gay people aren't?

Alcoholics and drug addicts can legally marry.  Are you saying they're good role models for a strong family unit, but gay people aren't?

Almost half the marriages in this country end in divorce.  Aside from trying to prevent same sex couples from marrying, what are you doing to prevent couples, who don't understand the meaning of "Until death do us part", from marrying or are you saying that a straight marriage ending in divorce is better than a life long marriage between a same sex couple?

In 1967, the Supreme Court ruled a marriage between two people is a basic, civil right.  Since when did you and your organization decide the people should get to vote on which civil rights we'll let people have?

Much to Keith's chagrain, I sort of hope Maryland does take the issue of same sex marriage to the people to vote on.  Whether it will pass or not is beside the point for me.  If you really want to start letting people vote on which civil rights we allow to which groups of people, I have a whole list of referendums to start flooding our state legislature with.  I guarantee you nor anyone affiliated with your organization will like any of them.

Oh wait.  Up until about fifty years ago, we did vote on which civil rights people were or were not entitled to.  It wasn't a pretty picture, was it?

For once, we would like to see someone from any homophobic organization out there, including the Maryland Families Alliance, publically answer any, preferably all, of the questions we posed above.  For the casual reader of Toddville Tidewaters, we ask you ponder the questions we posed for yourself.



© 2012
Mark Darien
All rights reserved
Please include this copyright notice if you share this article

Suriving two weeks of an earthquake, hurricane, and tropical depression

Three weeks ago, we had our worst nightmare forming out in the Carribean.  A strong hurrican named Irene had its sights set for Delmarva.  A week in advance, before it even hit Puerto Rico, we were on edge.  A tropical storm or hurricane usually hits us within a week of Labor Day weekend.  In fact, we moved into our house on Labor Day weekend, and the day we moved into our new home five years ago, tropical storm Ernesto welcomed us.

Since that time, Keith has pondered, every year, what would happen if a category one hurricane hit us on a path right up the Bay.  Hazel was our last category one hurricane to hit and that was way back before either one of us were born.  Fifty-seven years ago, to be exact.  A major storm like Hazel is supposed to hit us every thirty to fifty years so we figured we were on borrowed time.

On Friday, the day before the Big Storm, I went out on a mission to get sandbags and some other storm prep supplies.  I couldn't find a sandbag within a fifty mile radius.  To top it off, I couldn't find a decent flashlight nor batteries to operate the little ones we already have.  Knowing Irene was going to blow in with a vengeance, we realized too late the importance of being prepared way before you even know what might hit you.

I managed to get twelve bags of sand and bought my own bags to make my own sandbags.  On the night of the storm, I sandbagged the doors and had a few more ready to fight the water anywhere else it could find a way in.  We also got everything - and I mean everything - off the first floor.  The big things that we left behind were ready to be moved when the tides came pouring through.  We were set as much as available supplies and our budget would allow.

Saturday came and Irene began knocking on our door.  She brought heavy rains and breezes, a warning that she could be vicious and gentle at the same time.  All we could do was wait.  Our flood tides don't happen during the storm.  They always come as the storm exits. 

So we waited - and drank beer.  The original forcast had the brunt of the storm coming after midnight, but on the five o'clock news, the forcasters upped the time for the strongest part of the storm to hit after eight pm.  That was only three hours away, and while we had a deluge the entire day, the winds were only breezy.  We've had stronger nor'easters.

Keith's pessimism began to show through.  "Where's the hurricane?  The trees are supposed to be bending back and forth and things are supposed to be flying through the air."

In Keith's defense, his pessimism wasn't without foundation.  Three days earlier, as we drove to work, he mentioned that he had never experienced a category one hurricane and he wanted to experience one.  His grandmother talked about how bad Hazel was in '54 and Irene was his chance to experience what his grandmother had told him.  He added, "I've never experienced a tornado or an earthquake, either.  I don't want to experience a tornado, but I'd like to see one.  And I'd want to feel an earthquake.  I can't imagine what one feels like."

"If you want to feel an earthquake, you have to go to California, and I ain't going to California.  If Apryl [his daughter] moves to Ohio, you can visit her during tornado season, but I ain't going," I replied.

That afternoon, I ate my lunch under the pine tree on the hill behind where I work, then lay down to take a nap.  As I dozed off, the ground felt like jello and I instantly sat up, startled.  I rocked as if I were sitting on a bowl of jello, and the hill felt as if it were going to slide down.  The sensation only lasted a few seconds, but by the time I gathered my senses, I sat there wondering if there was something physically wrong with me or if we had an earthquake.  I lit up a smoke and then I heard someone yell, "We had an earthquake!"

I breathed a sigh of relief knowing there was nothing wrong with me.  Then I remembered Keith and our conversation this morning and wondered if he felt the quake he caused.  Yes, he caused it.  He wanted a blizzard and we got two back-to-back blizzards.  He wanted the spring to dry out so his flowers would grow, and we had no rain for two months, plunging us into a moderate drought.  He wanted to feel an earthquake, and we got a 5.8 quake.  Mother Nature listens to Keith, but, unfortunately, gives him more than he asks for.

I felt the quake he asked for.  He didn't.  He was in his work van and didn't feel a thing.  He's still upset about that.  All I can say is everyone east of the Mississippi should brace themselves for another - and much larger - quake, one that drivers will even feel.

Now here we were, three hours away from the height of a category one hurricane, and all we had were breezes and lots of rain.  "I missed the earthquake and now we ain't going to get the hurricane," he lamented.

I pulled up the weather observations for Bishops Head.  Winds were steady at 23 mph, gusting to near 40.  We weren't even in tropical strength, yet.  Maybe Keith was right.

About an hour later, I refreshed the stats, and winds were steady at 39 mph, with gusts just over 50.  I woke Keith up.  "It's coming, Keith.  We're in tropical strength now and the peak is still two hours away.  Grab some beer and let's go."

Keith got excited until he looked outside.  "It doesn't look all that much more windy."

I packed our beer and explained, "We'll go out to the docks and see the full force.  We're too protected here with all the trees."

We headed out to the mouth of Tedious Creek, where we go fishing and crabbing.  Normally, Tedious Creek is calm with little ripples lapping the shore.  During storms, it turns into a viscious flood machine.  When the winds blow right, the water is forced up the creek, over the land, and, at least once a year, into our yard.  Now, keep in mind, we don't live on Tedious Creek.  Tedious Creek is a mile or two from us.  So when it comes into our yard, you can imagine the volume of Bay water the wind has pushed up the creek to reach us.  It doesn't even have to be a strong wind.  A steady, persistent breeze from the right direction is all it takes.  The Mother's Day storm of '08 testifies to that.

We got down to the docks and the wind howled.  Waves crashed on the shore.  For the first time that day, we felt we were in a tropical storm.  The good news was the waves slammed against the east side banks of Tedious Creek instead of blowing straight up the creek. 

"We're not going to get flooded, Keith.  Look where the waves are going."

"You're sure?"

"With the tides around here, no, the tides do what they want, but what I'm seeing is a good sign.  The waves are wrong and high tide is still a good six hours away."  (It's only an 11-second shot, but you can view the peak of our storm as seen at the mouth of Tedious Creek following the rest of the story.)

As darkness crept in and our beer supply dwindled, we went home.  There's only so much wind and repetive wave action one can watch before you realize you're running out of beer.  As we left the docks, the winds seemed to get less harsh.  By the time we got home (ten minutes later), there was no storm.  It wasn't even raining.

I pulled up the radar and it showed the storm passing us.  The stats showed the steady wind speed at 23 mph with gusts to almost forty.  The storm was over, which meant the flood tides were coming.  Keith, already dejected because he didn't get to exprience a category one hurricane, had fallen fast asleep on the sofa.  I didn't expect much of anything, so I let him sleep and headed out on my own. 

The exiting storm brought in a bit stronger winds, I'm sure, but nothing stronger than what we had seen all day.  The tides, however, were coming in.  On my short trip around the block, the block being about a square mile radious of country roads, the usual low-lying parts of the road had water coming across.

I got home and woke Keith up.  "The tides are coming in.  Let's go fo a ride."

You're expecting something exciting to happen here, huh?  Sorry, no.  The flood tide was nothing more than a full moon tide.  The low spots of the roads flooded and that's about it.  Irene turned out to be a non-event.  Our sandbags not only didn't hold back flood waters, they didn't even get wet. 

About five days later, the remnants of tropical storm Lee hit us.  I can cut this story short.  Yes, we had more rain, maybe an inch or two, but no winds and no flooding.  Lee had no effect on us.

Ironically, between the two storms, people living in the high country had way more problems than we had.  One thing we learned is that no matter how much rain falls, the marsh asorbs it all.  It's the winds partnering with the tides that flood us.  Irene and Lee proved that.  Between the two storms within the same week, we had well over a foot of rain.  We had no flooding.  Last spring, we had a nor'easter that dropped about an inch of rain, but the winds brought in a tide that flooded our house.

Keith missed our earthquake and our category one hurricane.  He'll get over it.  According to the Mayans, the end of the world is a little over a year from now.  He figures that December 2012 will bring a major earthquake, hurricane, tornado, and probably an asteroid.  He's already planned his time off and started thinking about an end-of-the-world party.  If Mother Nature really does listen to him, we're in for some wild events next year.

Irene's peak fury

© 2011
Mark Darien
All rights reserved
Please include this copyright notice if you share this article