Archive for the 'quotes' Category

a visit to the l.a. county museum

Another quick stop over the hol­i­days took the form of a visit to the Los Ange­les County Museum of Art.

Installed at the new main entrance is this bat­tal­ion of 202 antique street­lights, Urban Light, by artist Chris Bur­den. Street­lights like these of course were posi­tioned at curbs in straight lines, spaced reg­u­larly. Clus­ter­ing them together like this accen­tu­ates that fact, and to me makes the whole instal­la­tion seem maybe just a lit­tle bit militaristic.

Arranged behind the Bur­den piece are some palm trees, the first plant­i­ngs of what will be a large instal­la­tion of palms by Robert Irwin. Irwin is the design force behind the Cen­tral Gar­den at the J. Paul Getty Museum, but here the trees will read less like a sep­a­rate gar­den than plant­i­ngs inte­grated into the art and architecture.

Their trunks echo the posts of the street­lights, as does the fact that they’re planted in a reg­u­lar pat­tern. Also, as with the street­lights, they’re a col­lec­tion of dif­fer­ent kinds. A press release states: “Along with the palms, Irwin’s other medium is South­ern California’s light, and the species of palms have been spe­cially cho­sen to gather and reflect the inter­play of light and shadow native to L.A.” [ source ] I love Robert Irwin’s work [ here’s a sam­ple ], and I’ll be check­ing back on this instal­la­tion as time goes on.

The whole ver­ti­cal shaft thing becomes a theme around the Museum’s lat­est build­ing, the newish Broad Con­tem­po­rary Art Museum, which has red exte­rior accents, includ­ing plenty of red columns.

The land­scap­ing in this part of the museum is inter­est­ing in that it uses palms or flat plant­i­ngs. Vir­tu­ally no shrubs. It’s a pretty urban plant­ing that in part seems designed to give the home­less no place to camp.

Most hor­i­zon­tal sur­faces, using decom­posed gran­ite or this Turf­s­tone prod­uct, are designed as walk­a­ble exten­sions of the con­crete paving. Where does the land­scape end and the urban fab­ric begin?

Here’s an inter­est­ing gar­den­ing aside: The Muse­ums are located on the same big city block as the famed La Brea Tar Pits, where the ground oozes black, gummy tar, a sub­stance that has pre­served bones of saber­tooth tigers and woolly mam­moths from the last ice age that got too close to the stuff. Just imag­ine try­ing to gar­den where dig­ging a hole to plant a shrub might put you in con­tact with the deadly sludge! I have yet to pick up a gar­den book that even begins to dis­cuss what to do with this kind of soil prob­lem. While the park con­tain­ing the tar pits has a few gooey shoe-grabbing spots, these plant­i­ngs seemed free of the muck.

My main rea­son for vis­it­ing LACMA was to take in a photo exhibit that reassem­bles many of the works that were seen in the sem­i­nal 1975 “New Topo­graph­ics” exhi­bi­tion of land­scape pho­tog­ra­phy. These works in the show sig­naled a break from the more roman­tic takes on what land­scape pho­tos ought to look like and engaged a land where the human pres­ence reigned supreme.

One of my favorite pho­tog­ra­phers in the show, Robert Adams, often com­bines the roman­tic sub­lime with a cooler take on what the world really looks like. To the left is “Mobile Homes, Jef­fer­son County, Col­orado” from 1973 [ source ], a great exam­ple of what his eye sees. You get the sense in his work that the human land­scape often fails to live up to the stun­ning geog­ra­phy where it’s sited.

See­ing his work again prompted me to reread some of his Beauty in Pho­tog­ra­phy: Essays in Defense of Tra­di­tional Val­ues. (From this photo you can see that he takes “tra­di­tional val­ues” pretty broadly.) Here’s a quick snip­pet gar­den­ers and land­scape design­ers might like to think about.

Not sur­pris­ingly, many pho­tog­ra­phers have loved gar­dens, those places that Leonard Woolf once described as “the last refuge of dis­il­lu­sion.” Gar­dens are in fact strik­ingly like land­scape pic­tures, sanc­tu­ar­ies not from but of truth.

–from the essay, “Truth and Land­scape” in Beauty in Photography

In part­ing, let me move from beauty in pho­tog­ra­phy to beauty in art. Here’s a closeup of Urban Light, back­lit by the after­noon sun:


(For another exam­ple of Burden’s work, check out the instal­la­tion of 50,000 nickel coins and 50,000 match­sticks that the San Diego Museum of Con­tem­po­rary Art exhib­ited: The Rea­son for the Neu­tron Bomb.)

January 12 2010 | Categories: artlandscapelandscape designphotographyplacesquotes | Tags: | 8 Comments »

some missing words

The cur­rent issue of Orion, one of my favorite mag­a­zines, fea­tures “World With­out Vio­lets,” a scary lit­tle essay by Robert Michael Pyle.

A mother in Britain dis­cov­ered that the edi­tors of the cur­rent Oxford Junior Dic­tio­nary, in their zeal to bring this lit­tle dic­tio­nary for chil­dren up to date, had removed a long list of words deal­ing with nature in order to make room for words like “broad­band,” “bungee jump­ing” and “chat room.”

Pyle writes about the uni­verse the edi­tors of the Dic­tio­nary have cre­ated for the cur­rent gen­er­a­tion of chil­dren who would use it:

It is a world with­out vio­lets. Spring comes unan­nounced by catkins and pro­ceeds with­out ben­e­fit of cro­cuses, cowslips, or tulips. Sum­mer brings no laven­der, mel­ons, or nec­tarines, and autumn is absent of acorns, almonds, and hazel­nuts. Win­ter must be endured with­out the holly and the ivy, the wren or the mistletoe.

So, sud­denly bungee jumping–how retro-80s is that concept?–is more impor­tant than tulips, broad­band more nec­es­sary for chil­dren to know about than mel­ons, and chat rooms more of our real world than holly.

If some­one decides that we don’t need a word for some­thing, does that some­thing cease to exist? Not really. But what kind of mind­set decides that chil­dren don’t need to know about their nat­ural world any­more? I was disturbed.

July 13 2009 | Categories: landscapequotes | Tags: | 5 Comments »

green immigrants

Here are a few more selec­tions that you might find inter­est­ing from Amer­i­can Per­cep­tions of Immi­grant and Inva­sive Species: Strangers on the Land, by Peter Coates, pub­lished in 2006.

Before Colum­bus brought seeds and cut­tings along on his sec­ond voy­age to the West Indies, North Amer­ica was home to less than 1 per­cent of the world’s total com­ple­ment of cere­als, starches, fruits, and vegetables.

Today, the only crops of sig­nif­i­cant com­mer­cial value native to the ter­ri­tory that became the United States are cran­berry, blue­berry, pecan nut, sugar maple, sun­flower, and tobacco–a fact that offers elo­quent tes­ti­mony to the great ser­vice that has been duly ren­dered by a sting of public-spirited Americans…

No Amer­i­can pub­lic ser­vant since [Thomas] Jef­fer­son deserves more credit for trans­form­ing the for­eign into the com­mon than David G. Fairchild. In his capac­ity as agri­cul­tural explorer in charge at the Sec­tion for For­eign Seed and Plant Intro­duc­tion from 1898 until 1928, Fairchild brought the navel orange to Florida and Cal­i­for­nia from Brazil and over­saw the intro­duc­tion of Italy’s seed­less grape and China’s dry land pis­ta­chio. His most notable con­tri­bu­tions, how­ever, were in the intro­duc­tion of the Chi­nese soy­bean and…the tree that became an essen­tial prop of Wash­ing­ton, D.C.‘s mon­u­men­tal land­scape, adorn­ing the Tidal Basin: the Japan­ese flow­er­ing cherry tree.

Fairchild’s encoun­ters with the infa­mous vine that “ate the South”…left him some­what chas­tened. He first came across kudzu about 1900 while tour­ing Japan, where this wild, semi­woody peren­nial was fed to live­stock. In his auto­bi­og­ra­phy he recalled a visit to a “kudzu enthu­si­ast” in Chip­ley, Florida, who was renowned for singing its praises as a for­age crop in the early 1900s, despite his neigh­bors’ dis­trust. “When­ever I think of that night’s talk with the kudzu pio­neer,” recalled Fairchild, “I have a spe­cial feel­ing of pride in what might be called our Amer­i­can will­ing­ness to try some­thing new, whether it be a new for­age crop, a new food, or any one of a thou­sand new, machine-made gad­gets.” Fairchild, who con­fessed that “per­haps I have an undue pas­sion for the new,” retained his faith in kudzu for quite some time, despite its pro­cliv­ity to spread at will. By the late 1930s, how­ever he was express­ing his grow­ing reser­va­tions in print. The seeds he brought back from Japan and planted on his prop­erty in Florida “‘took’ with a vengeance, smoth­er­ing every­thing they got onto, and pretty soon we became alarmed. Feel­ing that the kudzu was too much for us, we began to cut it out.”

Fairchild finally returned home, so to speak, in 1946, when invited to make his selec­tion for the “My Favorite Tree” guest col­umn in the jour­nal of the Amer­i­can Forestry Asso­ci­a­tion (the nation’s old­est con­ser­va­tion orga­ni­za­tion, founded in 1875). After men­tion­ing a string of exotic also-rans, but dis­card­ing them as unsat­is­fac­tory, he recalled that he had seen his first grove of Cal­i­for­nia coastal red­woods (Sequoia sem­per­virens) fairly late in life, at a time when he was still besot­ted with exotic Asi­atic promise: “A feel­ing of utter paral­y­sis over­took me and the pas­sion for plant­ing trees, my puny lit­tle trees, any­where, became distasteful.”

The sto­ries in the book are great, and the social com­men­tary is com­pelling. Unfor­tu­nately, every now and then a botan­i­cal clinker drops into the book’s pages, such as the one that fol­lows the quote on red­woods imme­di­ately above, where the author waxes, “Though the red­wood is only really found in Cal­i­for­nia (there is a tiny patch in the most south­west­erly cor­ner of Ore­gon), it is arguably more Amer­i­can than any other tree in the United States inso­far as it has no rel­a­tives, near or dis­tant, in any other coun­try.” Like, um, what about the Chi­nese dawn red­wood (Metase­quoia glyp­tostroboides)?

Okay, this isn’t a book you read for the botany, but it’s a wor­thy and thought­ful work on plants and the human con­di­tion, per­fect for late win­ter read­ing as you con­tem­plate the impend­ing bloom­ing of your cherry trees.

Although it’s pri­mar­ily about bio­log­i­cal immi­grants to North Amer­ica, Peter Coates points occa­sion­ally out that the immigrant-carrying boats sailed both directions:

The native oaks of Britain and the United States were greatly admired by J.C. Loudon, a lead­ing British hor­ti­cul­tur­ist of the mid-nineteenth cen­tury. He pro­nounced them “the most beau­ti­ful of trees.” Yet exotic trees had already become a manda­tory ingre­di­ent of the “polite” British land­scape enclosed within pri­vate estates. Loudon him­self was one of the trend­set­ters who insisted that, notwith­stand­ing the oak’s charms, “no res­i­dence in the mod­ern style can have a claim to be con­sid­ered as laid out in good taste, in which all the trees and shrubs employed are not either for­eign ones, or improved vari­eties of indige­nous ones.

The most sought-after of these arbo­real exotics were hardy North Amer­i­cans. Britons were ruth­lessly con­de­scend­ing toward Amer­i­can artis­tic achieve­ments at this time. “In the four quar­ters of the globe,” Syd­ney Smith famously inquired [in 1820], “who reads an Amer­i­can book?” or goes to an Amer­i­can play” or looks at an Amer­i­can pic­ture or statue?” Yet no one asked “who plants an Amer­i­can tree?”

February 10 2009 | Categories: gardeninglandscapelandscape designquotes | Tags: | 3 Comments »

hot lips

I’ve heard salvia con­nois­seurs talk down about this plant, Salvia micro­phylla ‘Hot Lips,’ mostly because it’s get­ting to be so com­monly avail­able in areas where it grows eas­ily. But of all the sages in my gar­den this one has been the best performer.

Liv­ing in a sunny spot with dry-to-average gar­den water, the plants are cov­ered with these flow­ers year-round, hit­ting a peak in the fall.

salvia-hot-lips-grid

Com­mon or not, the flow­ers make the plant really inter­est­ing. Most are two col­ors, a com­bi­na­tion of scar­let and white, with no two flow­ers exactly alike. But often you’ll get flow­ers that are almost all white or all red. I’ve heard that cold weather seems to bring out the white, and that syncs up with what I’ve seen. But at the same time you’ll often still have multi-colored flowers–all on the same plant.

The growth habit is like a lot of sages, mean­ing the plant has the lines of a choco­late truf­fle left on a warm dash­board. For me, so far it grows about 30 inches tall by 60 wide. It’s sup­pos­edly hardy down around 20 degrees, but don’t expect many flow­ers when the frost starts up.

If you can grow it, this could be a good can­di­date for your list!

February 01 2009 | Categories: artgardeningmy gardenplant profilesquotes | Tags: | 4 Comments »

teach wonder

Imag­ine if [kids] knew plants and ani­mals the way they knew brand names and logos, if they knew moun­tains the way the know malls. They would feel like full par­tic­i­pants in the land­scapes they inhabit, hap­pily roam­ing the ridges and creeks in a world that needs their atten­tive­ness… I share with Rachel Car­son the hope that chil­dren be given a sense of won­der so inde­struc­tible that it would last through­out life.“
Rick Van Noy, in A Nat­ural Sense of Won­der: Con­nect­ing Kids with Nature through the Sea­sons, quoted in a book review by Brian Doyle in the cur­rent issue of Orion.

January 23 2009 | Categories: landscapequotes | Tags: | No Comments »

visualize your blog content

A lot of blogs these days–including this one–have tag clouds in their side­bars. These highly visual dis­plays of tags the blog­ger has sup­plied give you a good sense of the kinds of top­ics the blog cov­ers. And they give you a sense of how often the top­ics get discussed.

These do a nice job of dis­play­ing the words the blog­ger thought would be impor­tant, but they some­times miss the big pic­ture that you could get by turn­ing an entire post into a cloud, some­thing using all the words in the post, not just the ones sup­plied by the blogger.

One of the inter­est­ing things I saw in the cov­er­age of Barack Obama’s inau­gu­ra­tion was an Asso­ci­ated Press visu­al­iza­tion of his inau­gural address using an online tool to ana­lyze the fre­quency of the words he used. (Per­haps the AP’s analy­sis was based on one at Free Gov­ern­ment Infor­ma­tion.) Then the story went on to com­pare it with a visu­al­ized ver­sion of George Bush’s 2005 inau­gural address.

I used the same tool, TagCrowd, to re-visualize the same Obama speech. TagCrowd picks the most fre­quently used words and assigns dif­fer­ent sizes to them. As in a reg­u­lar tag cloud, the big­ger the visu­al­ized word, the more times it was used.

obamaspeech

But instead of com­par­ing it to Bush’s address, I visu­al­ized Lincoln’s Get­tys­burg address, since peo­ple seem to com­pare Obama and Lin­coln. You can see how lan­guage has shifted over one and a half cen­turies, as well as how dif­fer­ently the men use words.

lincolnspeech

Inter­est­ing, huh?

Then I thought, why not try visu­al­iz­ing some blog posts by turn­ing all the words in blog posts into clouds? Would the results between posts be that dif­fer­ent? And would they dif­fer much from the tag cloud in my left sidebar?

The first post­ing I ana­lyzed is a recent one, “greener gar­den­ing prac­tices,” from Jan­u­ary 7:

blogpostinggreener

How would that gar­den­ing post com­pare with one of my older hoity-toity art posts? This is the cloud derived from “gar­dens, phone­booths, poet­ics and old maids,” a post from Jan­u­ary 21, 2008:

blogpostchiricahua

Pretty dif­fer­ent clouds, I thought. (And sorry for the typos on “Cochise!”) The dif­fer­ent sub­jects resulted in dra­mat­i­cally dif­fer­ent vocab­u­lar­ies and dif­fer­ent word emphases. Also, over the last year, I’ve been try­ing to sim­plify my writ­ing for the web–not at all dumb­ing it down, but adapt­ing to how peo­ple read text on a screen ver­sus text in a book. That prob­a­bly con­tributed to a dif­fer­ence between the two posts.

Try TagCrowd. Com­pare old posts with new posts, or posts about your gar­den with those about your friends or trav­els. Or pick just one text you like to see what the repeated words tell you.

I think you’ll dis­cover some inter­est­ing things!

January 23 2009 | Categories: artgardeningquotesrambles | Tags: | 6 Comments »

why garden?

For­give this long let­ter; I don’t have time to write a short one.
–George Bernard Shaw

Blotan­i­cal is ask­ing gar­den blog­gers to answer a sim­ple ques­tion this month: Why do I garden?

But there’s a catch: The answer has to be SMS-sized, 160 char­ac­ters or less! The brief answers are quick and easy to read. To write one is not.

Here’s my attempt:

I gar­den in order to glimpse nature’s processes and rhythms, because my gar­den takes care of me at least as much as I take care of it, and because all our gar­dens mat­ter more than we’ll ever know.

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PS: If you don’t know Blotan­i­cal, you should. It’s a great online com­mu­nity of inter­na­tional gar­den blog­gers that has recently sur­passed the thousand-blog mark. If you fig­ure sev­eral years of expe­ri­ence for most of the blog­gers, you could con­sider that the site gives you easy access to sev­eral thou­sand years of com­bined gar­den­ing experience–plus all the blog­gers’ great sto­ries! Gar­den­ers are the best peo­ple, and this site will prove it.

November 29 2008 | Categories: gardeningquotes | Tags: | 9 Comments »

the evil baobab

I’ve been think­ing a lot about weeds lately. Now that the weather is chang­ing, the lit­tle cool sea­son green inter­lop­ers are start­ing to show them­selves with a vengeance. And as I men­tioned ear­lier, I’m read­ing Amer­i­can Per­cep­tions of Immi­grant and Inva­sive Species : Strangers on the Land by Peter Coates.

The epi­gram that starts off chap­ter 3 is an amaz­ing quote from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Lit­tle Prince:

There were on the planet where the lit­tle prince lived–as on all planets–good and bad plants…If it is only a sprout of radish or the sprig of a rose-bush, one would let it grow wher­ever it might wish. But when it is a bad plant, one must destroy it as soon as pos­si­ble, the very first instant that one rec­og­nizes it. Now there were ter­ri­ble seeds on the planet that was the home of the lit­tle prince; and these were the seeds of the baobab. The soil of that planet was infested with them. A baobab is some­thing you will never, never be able to get rid of if you attend to it too late. It spreads over the entire planet. It bores clear through it with its roots. And if the planet is too small, and the baob­a­bas are too many, they split it in pieces.

I’m not sure if Saint-Exupéry ever met a real live baobab plant, the world’s largest suc­cu­lent, shown to the left in a photo by Quinn Nor­ton (used under the Cre­ative Com­mons 1.0 Attri­bu­tion Gen­eral License) [ source ].

And I’m not sure if the author was just using the word “baobab” just because it sounds cool and deli­ciously evil. But his descrip­tion of a plant from hell sure describes a lot of the weeds that I feel com­pelled to keep up with.

After all, I wouldn’t want the world to split into pieces just because I was too lazy to weed my garden!

November 15 2008 | Categories: gardeningquotesrambles | Tags: | 2 Comments »

they came from the sky…

As my recent cold began to fade I began to put away the gar­den pic­ture books and reach for a book that I knew would require a lit­tle more focus and reflec­tion. I’m not that far into it yet, but Peter Coates’s Amer­i­can Per­cep­tions of Immi­grant and Inva­sive Species: Strangers on the Land is prov­ing to be a sur­pris­ingly lively read for a book that seems aimed at an aca­d­e­mic audience.

With inter­est­ing his­to­ries of “invad­ing” plants and ani­mals set against his­tor­i­cal debates over human immi­gra­tion, it’s a vol­ume that could be inter­est­ing for many thought­ful gar­den­ers and bird­ers. Here are just a cou­ple pas­sages that touch on some of the issues in the book:

With­out ques­tion the most deplorable event in the his­tory of Amer­i­can ornithol­ogy,” declared William Daw­son in 1903, “was the intro­duc­tion of the Eng­lish Spar­row.” This may sound absurd to those acquainted with the pas­sen­ger pigeon’s fate. Yet Daw­son insisted that the noto­ri­ous extinc­tions of the pigeon and the great auk … were mere “tri­fles” com­pared to the fright­ful reper­cus­sions for var­i­ous small native birds of the “inva­sion of that wretched for­eigner.” A dra­matic remark of this sort from a cen­tury ago serves as a wel­come cor­rec­tive to the unre­flec­tive tone of cur­rent lit­er­a­ture on bioin­va­sion, which fre­quently inti­mates that today’s level of con­cern in unmatched.

Those who speak of eco­log­i­cal nativism … give the impres­sion that antipa­thy toward exotic species and the simul­ta­ne­ous cham­pi­oning of native biota have been par­tic­u­larly robust in the United States. This view usu­ally emerges by default: com­men­ta­tors sim­ply neglect to reflect on other national expe­ri­ences. [Mark] Sagoff, [in “What’s Wrong with Exotic Species?”] though, directly com­pares Amer­i­can intol­er­ance with a more relaxed Euro­pean “cos­mopoli­tanism” that “tol­er­ates porous bor­ders” for immi­grant flora and fauna. He sees this as a reflec­tion of dif­fer­ent New and Old World con­cep­tions of nature. Whereas Amer­i­cans are ded­i­cated to the “idea of pris­tine nature,” as enshrined in the related con­cepts of wilder­ness and indige­nous species (native plants and ani­mals, by impli­ca­tion, being biotic cit­i­zens of a ter­res­trial Eden), these notions, he claims, lack cul­tural, spir­i­tual, and his­tor­i­cal mean­ing for Euro­peans, who pre­fer their nature to be a blend of the non­hu­man and the cul­tural. The alien organ­isms Euro­peans worry about and are keen to exclude from their coun­try­side and farms, he explains, are genet­i­cally mod­i­fied crops (mostly born in the United States).

November 09 2008 | Categories: gardeninglandscapequotesrambles | Tags: | 3 Comments »

poultry: 1, humans: 0

What fol­lows is an unpaid polit­i­cal rant.

Unless you’re read­ing this blog using a bicycle-powered gen­er­a­tor in the desert out­back some­where east of Perth you’ve heard of the rev­o­lu­tion­ary change in the lead­er­ship of the United States. It’s the cul­mi­na­tion of tire­less work for equal­ity and civil rights by gen­er­a­tions of good peo­ple. In Tuesday’s Cal­i­for­nia elec­tions, in addi­tion to vot­ing for Barack Obama in a land­slide, vot­ers also over­whelm­ingly approved Propo­si­tion 2, a wor­thy ini­tia­tive that man­dates more humane cage con­di­tions for chick­ens and other farm animals.

I should be happy, and I am gen­uinely happy–about those and many other things that hap­pened elec­tion day.

This gardener is pissed

This gar­dener is pissed

But pol­i­tics is a messy beast, and this gar­dener is hav­ing a bout of bad atti­tude. It started on Mon­day with the first signs of a bad cold and then wors­ened as some of the polit­i­cal fall­out from Tuesday’s elec­tions became clearer. So often, along with the good and rev­o­lu­tion­ary, you get deliv­ered the vile and reac­tionary. In the same Cal­i­for­nia elec­tions I referred to the pop­u­lace nar­rowly approved Propo­si­tion 8, a con­sti­tu­tional amend­ment rescind­ing the rights of gay and les­bian cit­i­zens from mar­ry­ing each other, thereby uphold­ing the tra­di­tional val­ues of hav­ing gays and les­bians marry peo­ple of the oppo­site gender.

In effect, in their actions, the vot­ers of Cal­i­for­nia decided to grant addi­tional civil rights to poul­try, while at the same time rescind­ing rights for the state’s gay and les­bian population.

So, are we to con­clude that, in a state where it takes 55% of the vote to raise prop­erty taxes, all it takes is a slim major­ity of the pop­u­la­tion to take rights away from thou­sands of its fel­low cit­i­zens? Have the Cal­i­for­nia vot­ers said that my com­mit­ment in mar­riage last June to John is now null and void? Not so fast!

The law­suits have begun, and one of the argu­ments is that very issue of the size of the vote nec­es­sary to revise a basic right that’s in the con­sti­tu­tion ver­sus merely amend­ing it. Legal chal­lenges often get a bad rap in this coun­try, but if it had been left exclu­sively to the pop­u­lar vote we’d still have things like seg­re­ga­tion and indus­trial runoff ignit­ing the rivers of the Northeast.

My cur­rent cold will pass, along with my cur­rent bad atti­tude. No mat­ter the imme­di­ate out­comes of the chal­lenges to Propo­si­tion 8, so too will pass this country’s romance with intol­er­ance. No mat­ter what tran­spires, John and I will con­tinue to con­sider our­selves married.

It’ll take a while for the cul­ture to change, but the signs are every­where. Although peo­ple over 30 voted for California’s Propo­si­tion 8, the pop­u­la­tion 30 and under soundly rejected it by a mar­gin of two to one.

Another sign: Let me quote the final sen­tence of Mar­tin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech, in which he sets the bar for the changes that would need to take place. Notice the list, the agenda King sets.

…And when this hap­pens, when we allow free­dom to ring, when we let it ring from every vil­lage and every ham­let, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s chil­dren, black men and white men, Jews and Gen­tiles, Protes­tants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spir­i­tual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

And let me com­pare that the agenda Barack Obama set in his speech Tues­day night at Chicago’s Grant Park. His list, his agenda, his Amer­ica resides in the third para­graph from the very beginning.

If there is any­one out there who still doubts that Amer­ica is a place where all things are pos­si­ble, who still won­ders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still ques­tions the power of our democ­racy, tonight is your answer.

It’s the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in num­bers this nation has never seen, by peo­ple who waited three hours and four hours, many for the first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be dif­fer­ent, that their voices could be that difference.

It’s the answer spo­ken by young and old, rich and poor, Demo­c­rat and Repub­li­can, black, white, His­panic, Asian, Native Amer­i­can, gay, straight, dis­abled and not dis­abled. Amer­i­cans who sent a mes­sage to the world that we have never been just a col­lec­tion of indi­vid­u­als or a col­lec­tion of red states and blue states.

We are, and always will be, the United States of America.

At no time in his cam­paign did Obama defend gay mar­riage. That would have been polit­i­cal sui­cide. But it’s telling that we are no longer invis­i­ble as we were in King’s day. This is a dif­fer­ent vision of Amer­ica that will come to be as the next gen­er­a­tion finally gets its say.

The bar has been raised.

November 06 2008 | Categories: everythingquotesrambles | Tags: | 2 Comments »

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