Repost: I Still Have A Dream

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

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!"

--Martin Luther King, August 28, 1963

Happy New Year

I love the New Year. The freshness of what may be; the thought of infinite possibility; the idea that I am another year older. Okay, that last one I don't like so much, but since, as I tell my sister who thinks I never look any older, The Gays aren't allowed to age, I don't mind the extra year under the belt.

But I do look forward to doing more, and learning more, thinking more, reading more, loving more, laughing more. These aren't resolutions, as I don't make resolutions because when I do, my resolutions last about as long as it takes me to say resolution. These are promises and wishes, hopes and dreams.

So, I'll leave you all to have a good day, with a repost of a previous New Years Day thoughts:

The more things change :::blibbety blah blay bloo touch me::: the more they remain the same:  I am a believer in happiness. I believe that happiness is all we really get in life, and that everything else follows. 

Things don't make us happy, at least not for long. And you can't expect people to make you happy either; you either have it to begin with, and others add to it, or you don't.

If you don't believe that, just look around at all the sad, angry, lonely faces you pass on the street. Happiness is something you possess, that you give out, and get back. We're responsible for our own happiness, each and all of us; responsible to find it, to hold on to it; to nurture it and share it.

Without happiness in ourselves, for being ourselves, how can we expect to live fully and completely. We suffer loss every day; I've had my share and, sad to say, I know there's more to come, but I feel happy in the memories I have of those who've gone on ahead.

I know it's hard to be happy when times are hard. It's near impossible to think that things will get better, but they will; it might not be the better you were thinking it would be, but I have learned that it will get better. 

I have learned, from my Father the Teacher, never to stop learning and reading and speaking and, well, ranting; the more you learn, the more you grow, and understand, the more happiness you can accept. 

I have learned, from my Mother the Nurturer, to care for things, for people, for animals, for life; to make each day better for those around us, and to make it better for ourselves in the end. 

I have learned, from my Sister the Temper, to speak up; why sit quietly and let things happen to you? Stand up and demand the things you want, the happiness you want. Don't settle. 

I have learned, from my Brother the Father, to hold close to family; never let them go; whether it's the family you were born into, or the family you created out of necessity; hold on to them, and protect them, and love them. 

I have learned, from my Husband ... my Husband ... the Optimist, how to actually let go and be in love and damn the torpedoes; how to be open and honest and know that it won't hurt; how to love yourself, and everyone around you. 

So, I once again realize that I have learned to be happy; I've earned happiness. And I am responsible for it. It is, after all, all you really get in life.

Some day

When we are wiser
When the world's older

When we have learned

I pray

Someday we may yet live

To live and let live

Someday

Life will be fairer

Need will be rarer

Greed will not pay

God speed

This bright millennium

On its way

Let it come

Someday

Someday

Our fight will be won then

We'll stand in the sun then

That bright afternoon

Till then

On days when the sun is gone

We'll hang on

Wish upon the moon

Change will come

There are some days dark and bitter

Seems we haven't got a prayer

But a prayer for someday better

Is the one thing we all share

Someday

Life will be fairer

Need will be rarer

Greed will not pay

God speed

This bright millennium

Let it come

Wish upon the moon

Change will come

One day

Someday

Soon.

Merry Christmas

Here's a little repostage, a regift, if you will, of my annual holiday wish. It still holds true....for me: 

Christmas means a lot of different hings to a lot of different people. 

It's a religious holiday.
It's a shopping holiday.
It's a day for those who shop religiously. 
I'm not a big fan of either.  

So for me, Christmas is a day to spend with those you hold most dear in your heart. For me, it's Carlos and my family. Of course, the family is mostly on the Left Coast and I'm over here on the right, so Christmas is me and Carlos, and Ozzo, Tuxedo, Max Goldberg, and Consuelo Roca Jones -- all our furry kids.  

It's a day of relaxation and togetherness; reflection and laughter; of a good dinner cooked and shared by the two of us. It's not a day for What did you get? or for thinking How could I have spent so much? It's a day for How lucky am I?  

How lucky indeed. 

Christmas is more than a celebration, it's a connection we all can share regardless of faith, if we look at it as a day of Peace. A day to relax; to forgive, if not forget. To be at Peace. 

Every year I get the same question from friends and strangers alike: What are you getting for Christmas? What do you want for Christmas? 

And I always say, What I get is a lovely day. What I want, and I ask for it every year, is Peace On Earth. 

So here's to Peace On Earth, and the little parts that each of us play in creating our own peace. To make amends to those we may have slighted in the past year; to those who may have slighted us. To talk with the people we love just because we love them. To be nice. 

Just to be nice. There's a concept.  

Maybe if we all took a moment to think about how we'd like to be treated, we would find ourselves treating others the same way. It's a small step, but an important one. A Please here and a Thank You there. You're Welcome is good, too, though My pleasure, is better. Hold a door open for someone; let someone with less packages get in line ahead of you. Lay off the horn. Don't speed. Smile. Be nice. 

Be at Peace.
Merry Christmas world. 
Happy Hanukkah. 
Happy Kwanzaa. 
Merry Festivus. 
Happy Holidays.
Peace.  

And so that's my wish for you and yours. Health. Happiness. Love. Peace. 

And, while I've said it over and over again, that I have my personal spiritual beliefs and they do not follow the teachings of any organized religion, every Christmas, no song makes me feel more peaceful, more happy, more at ease, more hopeful than this one. And so I'll end with O Holy Night not because I am a religious man, but because I am a hopeful man, a peaceful man, a contented man, And no one, for me, sings it better than my girl, JHud.....Jennifer Hudson. 

Wedding Week Repost: An Open Letter To Those Folks Against Marriage Equality

Dear Anti-Marriage Equality People,

So, you're against gay marriage? Um.........why? I mean, if you believe that marriage should not be changed to allow same sex couples that right, then how do you explain how marriage has constantly changed over the course of these centuries? Sure, it used to be only for men to marry women, but sometimes, a lot of times, men were allowed to marry as many women as they wanted.

But then it changed to one man and one woman.

Men then married women and used them as chattel, property. They owned their wives and the wives did exactly what the husband wanted or the punishments came swift and severe. But then that changed and now women and men share equally in the marriage. No one owns the other, and women have this thing called free will.

Fathers sometimes gave their daughters up to be married so that the two families, when united, would become more powerful, either with money or land-holding, or via political power. But that's changed now, too. Women aren't "given" in marriage in exchange for anything.

We had one man and one woman of the same faith marrying. You did not ever marry outside your own faith into some other, heathen religion. Now, that doesn't hold true any longer.

And for many centuries you didn't marry outside your own race. A white man with an Asian bride was shocking. A black woman and a white man, married, was illegal in many places as recently as the 1960s.

Now, men and women of any race and religion and socio-economic, political, educational background are free to marry anyone they choose of any race and religion and socio-economic, political, educational background. Unless it's two men or two women.

Please, anti-marriage equality people, explain?

You say that some religions would be forced to perform same-sex weddings. Not so; that little thing called Separation of Church and State works both ways; it protects our government from being influenced by religions [sometimes] and also allows religions to remain unaffected by US law. The government cannot make a church change its core tenets and beliefs, no matter how wrong anyone thinks they might be, to force them into performing same-sex weddings.

So, what's your argument, then? Seriously, I'd like to know.

You are heard saying that marriage is created to produce children and create the future, but then how can you allow people to marry who don't want, or can't have, children? They aren't creating the future, they're just pledging their love to one another.

You oftentimes say that gay marriage will destroy traditional marriage, but you never seem to say how. It seems enough just to use the word destroy to strike fear into people. So, again I ask, how would my marrying my partner "destroy" a heterosexual marriage?

You are often quoted as saying you must protect the sanctity of marriage, and yet I don't see any outcry over divorce in this country. If marriage is so sacred, then how can you allow people to enter it, and then leave it, so cavalierly? How are you protecting the sanctity of marriage?

So, anti-marriage equality readers, and I know you're out there, please explain how gay marriage is bad. For anyone. I'm seriously curious.

Sincerely,

Newly Same-Sex Married Bob

Wedding Week Repost: Mad About The Town

Well, since I'm away, I thought I'd offer up a little tour of Smallville [real name: Camden} for those of you — and I'm assuming that's all of you, who've never been here.

Camden is the fourth oldest city in of South Carolina, and is actually the oldest inland city, with a population of roughly 8,000. In total area, Camden is 9.8 square miles, of which 9.6 is land, and 0.2 is water.

Like I said, Smallville.

In 1730—yes, almost three hundred years ago — Camden became part of a township plan ordered by King George II, and was laid out in 1732 as the town of Fredericksburg in the Wateree River swamp — just  south of present-day Camden.

When King George III ordered eleven inland townships established along South Carolina's rivers, few of the area settlers chose to take lots surveyed in the town, choosing the higher ground to the north, and the Fredericksburg Township soon disappeared.

In 1758, Joseph Kershaw, from Yorkshire, England came into the township, established a store and renamed the town Pine Tree Hill. Camden became the inland trade center in the colony, and Kershaw suggested that the town be renamed Camden, in honor of Lord Camden, the champion of colonial rights.

In May 1780 the American Revolution came to Charleston, and that town was captured. Afterwards, Lord Charles Cornwallis and 2,500 of his troops marched into Camden and established it as the main British supply post for the Southern campaign.

The Battle of Camden, the worst American defeat of the Revolution, was fought on August 16, 1780 in Camden, and the Battle of Hobkirk Hill was fought by 1,400 American troops led by General Nathanael Greene and 950 British soldiers led by Lord Francis Rawdon on April 25, 1781. The latter battle was a costly win for the British, and forced them to leave Camden.

And there’s the Robert Mills Courthouse, designed in 1825 by "South Carolina's Architect", Robert Mills. The courthouse features a copper roof, brick floors, vaulted central hallway, double arched ceilings downstairs; built to be fireproof, the walls of the courthouse are 22-inch thick masonry at the base covered by plaster, tapering to about fifteen inches thick at the second floor.  The single courtroom has been restored to conform to an 1845 renovation, when wide pine plank floors were installed to cover the second story brick floor. 

Robert Mills, also known as America's first architect, studied under Thomas Jefferson, PIerre L' Enfant, and James Hoban, and also designed the Washington Monument and the U.S. Treasury Building in Washington, D.C.

After the Civil War — Camden was one of the few Southern cities not directly involved in the war — Camden became a place where rich Northern families would spend the winter, bringing their prize horses with them. The town became associated with many equestrian activities, and is now the home of the third oldest active polo field in America. In the winter, more than 1,500 thoroughbreds call the field home and for that reason, Camden is now known as the ‘Steeplechase Capital of the World’.”

The Carolina Cup is an annual event held on either the final Saturday in March or the first Saturday of April, with the first race held on March 22, 1930; the Cup has been held every year since, with the exception of 1943 and 1945 when a little old thing called World War Two got in the way — why they had a Cup in '44 is not known.

The races have become a South Carolina tradition, and normally draw crowds of over 70,000 spectators to Camden. As Casa Bob y Carlos is on the road to the racecourse, we see most of these people driving, and walking, to the Cup.

The Cup has become a premier social sporting event at Springdale Race Course, which is also home to the Marion du Pont Scott Colonial Cup held on the third Sunday in November.

It's a big deal in Smallville.

And so, y'all, there's a little history, and a few pictures of Small.....er, Camden.

Wedding Week Repost: Happy Anniversary Wedding Day

I first posted this back on October 17, 2009, the first year of this blog. Back in those days there were only a couple of places where Carlos and I could get married, but we celebrated our anniversary anyway, like a couple of old married men.

I seriously never thought I would see the day that I would ... I could ... marry Carlos, with my father as a witness, but here we are today doing just that. I just wish my mother and sister could have been here in more than just spirit because, as much as they love me, they love Carlos as much ... maybe more.

So, next year, when we toast to our happy anniversary, it won't be another year of living in separate but equal sin, but our first actual wedding anniversary.
And who know,s by this time next year, marriage equality might exist in all fifty states.

Now that's something to celebrate!

Happy Anniversary

I was late to the party, the Internet party. I didn't get a computer until the mid-90s, and didn't get online until a couple of years after that. But I learned that all things happen for a reason.

I got myself on AOL and through a friend at work I learned of something called a "chat room" where you can just talk to people from all over the world. Huh? What? Huh? 

But I decided to give it a shot and I found an AOL Chat Room called Gay Lifestyles and figured I'd go in. I was the quiet one in the corner until I learned to speak up, or is it type up? 

But I digress. 

I liked the chat rooms just for the fun and jokes, not for the hook-ups - -there were other rooms for that sort of thing. I was single and that was okay. I'd had a couple of mini-relationships that didn't pan out and figured maybe I'd be the single guy, and that was okay. I liked my life, my job, my house, my friends. What more did I need?

But in April of 2000, I was in a chatroom and someone asked the obligatory "Where is everybody from?"

I answered "Cali here" because I'd seen other people call California by that name.

A few minutes later I got an IM from someone who asked about Cali. We chatted for a few minutes and then he asked me how long I'd lived in Cali. There was a mix-up; he was talking Cali, Colombia, and I was talking Cali California. It could have ended there but we decided to exchange emails and chat some more.

And then he suggested we talk by phone. I was already attracted to him just by what he said and the way he thought about things, and, being the shy one, I was a bit apprehensive, but said Okay.

That day I raced home from work so I could be ready for the call. There was a three hour time difference for us, between Miami and Sacramento, so it was getting late for him, when my phone rang.

I remember hearing his voice that first time. I remember falling in love with that accent. I remember what we said, and how we said it, and how we wanted to talk more and share pictures and find out all we could about each other. I remember how he laughed that first time. And we talked every day and night, even with the time difference. I'd call Florida when I woke up and talk to him at work, and he'd call Sacramento before he went to bed and I was getting home from work. And we emailed and IM'd and sent packages and pictures and songs we liked. 

It was a long distance romance, though I wanted to decrease the space between us.

I told him I wanted to meet him and we discussed who would come where and when and how. He had no vacation time and I was ready for some time off, so I took eleven days in July off and flew to Miami. I know! Miami in July! What was I thinking? Well, I was thinking that I was in love. I was thinking I wanted to see Carlos face-to-face, I wanted to hear that accent in person. i wanted to know all about him. I was thinking he was 'the one.'

We met at the Ft Lauderdale airport on July 11th, 2000. He wore a bow-tie and had a bouquet of roses. He looked like his pictures, though much cuter, and he smiled so sweetly. We had lunch and then walked on the Lauderdale beach; we drove to South Beach and stayed in a hotel because his aunt was staying with him in his house and we wanted privacy. We spent a weekend in Key West and Carlos wore a sarong as we walked through town to see the sunset. I heard him play his trumpet with a volunteer orchestra he belonged to, and I met his Aunt Gloria--who became my tour-guide and friend, and aunt--while Carlos was at work. I met Dengoso, the poodle; Thomas, Scruffy, Sweety, Lady, Voncie, Spunky and Squeaky, the cats. 

I wanted this, this man, this life, this place.

That vacation flew by and we were both in tears at the airport not knowing what was next for us. Moving? Staying long-distance friends and lovers? What was next?

Next was a visit from Carlos to California. And a Meet-The-Family dinner. Of course, my family loved him. my Mom loved him because he loved me; my sister loved him because he's a nice guy; my brother loved him for that same reason. My Dad loved him because Carlos is Carlos, what you see is what you get. No pretense. And I took Carlos to meet my friends and we had dinners and parties and good times. San Francisco. Tea in the Japanese Garden. A drive around Lake Tahoe. Then he had to go home and, once again, we wondered what we would do next.

It didn't take long. We still called and emailed and sent things through the mail. He spoke with my parents and friends and I spoke with his family. And then, it was just clear: I would move to Miami. I didn't really have a job that I couldn't get in Florida and, well, there are times in life where you just have to, as I like to say, Shake the Etch-A-Sketch.

So, where does this all lead? It leads to today, fourteen years after I stepped off another plane in Florida, though this time I wouldn't be staying just a week or so. Fourteen years ago today Carlos and I started our life together and there was no looking back; only forward. 

On this day in LGBT history, I met the man I call my partner, spouse, my husband, friend and lover. It's a fourteen-year-old ride that never gets old, and it sets the stage for another fourteen and another fourteen and so on and on.

Happy anniversary, happy wedding day.

Wedding Week Repost: A Truly Wicked Getaway

One thing I love ... love ... LOVE ... is a showtune. I sing showtunes so often to Carlos that i fear when he has me committed, and since we'll be married in a couple of days, the possiblilty looms closer, he'll do so because I think I'm Ethel Merman mixed with Patti LuPone and tossed in with Betty Buckley and Indina Menzel.

But, if I go, at least I'll go out belting a Broadway melody.

Here's a repost, from January 2010, of a trip to Greenville for a Wicked good time.

A Truly Wicked Getaway

Well, as many of you know, I celebrated my farumph-humph birthday this week, and Carlos and I took a much needed midweek getaway up to Greenville, South Carolina.

Greenville, you say. South Carolina? Really? 

Well, the reasons were two-fold. One, we had never been up to Greenville and we'd heard lovely things about it; And Two [well, really the Number Two reason was Number One]Wicked was playing at the Peace Center, and I have loved it since I first heard tell of the Witches Of Oz...before that girl came to town. 

So, with Wicked coming to Greenville, we were going to Greenville. 

Carlos and I took a couple of days off from work, got the sister of Round The Way Gay, David, to pet sit the ShoeBox Dog and Los Gatos, and off we went. 

For those of you unfamiliar with all things, or anything, South Carolina, the state is divided into three sections: The Low Country....think Charleston; The Midlands....think Columbia or Smallville; and The Upstate....Greenville. Very close to the North Carolina border and seemingly a world away from Smallville. 

Greenville is one of those rare small towns that has revived itself and is reinventing itself, thanks to things like a good strong university, and businesses like BMW and Michelin, which both have factories up there. Plus, Greenville seems to be able to bridge that gap between old town quaintness and big city life. There are all sorts of restaurants lining main street; art galleries; pet boutiques; gift shop; knickknack stores. And they maintain that sense of small town even with the new construction going on all over town. They respect the old and work with the new. 

It really has become one of my favorite towns. And right here in little ole South Carolina! 

Go figure. 

We spent that first day strolling down Main Street, stopping into Trio for lunch; window shopping and just, Aaaah, relaxing. The downtown area is, and I hate this word but it applies, vibrant, even in mid-day. Business folks out for lunch hour, martini gals stopping by to get liquored up before carpooling the kids home; and homos. While it isn't really cool to be gay in Greenville, you don't get that Go Home Queer vibe you get from other southern cities. 

At the Barkery Bistro, where we had to stop so Carlos could get a gift fro the ShoeBox Dog, we met Frank, who moved to Greenville from LA and San Francisco and Arizona. Frank is family and we spent a good deal of time talking to him; he told us where to go, before and after the show; what to see, which shops we should stop into. We found out the next day, at Mia Dimora, that he is affectionately known as Mister Downtown. He's kind of an unofficial Welcoming Committee Of One.

We took his advice and ended up discovering some great places and some fun people.

Greenville straddles the Reedy River, and they allow the buildings to take full advantage of the river, the falls, and the green areas.There are hotels and apartments, restaurants, and the Peace Center on both sides of the river west of Main Street, and then the Falls are on the east side. We strolled through the park, along the bridges and listened to the falls; you get the feeling that you are far away from everything, but you're still right there.

That night we ate a pre-show dinner at High Cotton, right along the river. Two glasses of birthday Champagne; seared rare Tuna with a pine nut vinaigrette, for me. Salmon for Carlos. A wonderful Pinot Noir with dinner; birthday apple tart for dessert with cappuccino.

Then it was off to the main event:Wicked. I've been a fan of this show since before it opened on Broadway and love to see it again and again. While I am considered a Friend Of Dorothy, I am also a friend of Elphaba and Galinda. And Fiyero.....in riding pants!

This production, the touring company, was really well done; though it helped that we had fabulous seats.

Heléne Yorke, as Galinda, before the Gah is silent, was hysterical; possessing the same gorgeous voice as Kristen Chenoweth, who originated the role. She was perky, and sweet, and sappy, and dorky. Totally Galinda.

Marcie Dodd, as Elphaba--the name comes from the original writer of the Oz books, L. Frank Baum--was spectacular as the misunderstood green witch. Her voice soared at all the right times, and she really captured the essence of both Idina Menzel and Margaret Hamilton; a tough feat.

Colin Donnell was Fiyero, the man who loved Galinda and fell in love with Elphaba. I mentioned the riding pants. There weren't the best part of his performance, but they were spectacular. Yum! But he also had a terrific voice, and alongside Yorke and Dodd, he really creates a vivid believable love triangle.

Plus, it didn't hurt at all that, the Peace Center used a full orchestra for the musical; when we saw it last in Ft Lauderdale, it was sung to recorded instrumentals. Good, but not as good as having the musicians right down front.

If you haven't seen Wicked, you should go. It plays along nicely with The Wizard of Oz, and yet stands completely on its own.

Fab.U.Lous!

Funny note, though; while leaving the theater and strolling back across the river to the car, I overheard two women talking about the musical. One said, I can't believe they didn't sing "Over The Rainbow!" it's one of the most popular songs ever!

This was after the show, and yet she still thought she was seeing The Wizard Of Oz. I felt like dousing her with a bucket of water.

The next day we slept in a bit, and then had a lazy breakfast at the Coffee Underground. Full on delicious breakfast for two, for well under $20! I know! Then we took a walk back up to the Barkery Bistro to give Frank a recap of the show, and to trade email addresses and such. If he ever comes to Smallville, we'll show him the sight.....yes, sight. Singular. Oh well.

Then Frank sent us off to Mia Dimora, a designer store with all sorts of things for the house. I found a great metal calendar--you use magnets to note the month, date and day--with a lovely pig chalkboard. it's a little bit country, and a little bit cool. We found a great ceramic baking pan for roasting peppers, and a stone you set in a bread basket to keep bread warm all through dinner. The owner of the shop, Elaine McCanless, and I talked kitchens and pets, Smallville and Greenville, while Carlos talked music and orchestra with Derek, who was unloading a shipment of new stuff. It's refreshing to walk into a shop and find the owners and workers so friendly, and willing to talk about, well, nothing really.

We visited the Mast General Store, an old-fashioned emporium that sells everything from camping gear to candy, shoes to mugs. Carlos found a, um, cowboy hat he simply had to have, but, I'll give him credit: he's handsome in a hat, straw or cowboy. I got some flannel jammie pants and a couple of cool Mast General store coffee mugs: Masquerading as a normal person day after day is Exhausting and I live in my own world, but it's okay, they like me here. And, to counter Cowboy Carlos, I got a ball cap.

We continued our walking tour and found ourselves at the far end of town where the revitalization has just begun. Old buildings house new restaurants; new buildings look old and house....housing. There's baseball field, for the Greenville Drive farm team, and I thought, I'd love to come up to a game one weekend. But then I thought of the last time Carlos and I went to a ball game. To see the Marlins. We went with a group of his coworkers, and had a hot dog and drank some beer, and then, just after the first inning ended, Carlos stands up and announces, Well, that was fun.

I told him the game had six more innings. He sat back down.

Maybe we'll do the Shakespeare Festival in Greenville. I don't think they have innings.