A History of Marriage Equality in Cake (with a tangent about tax returns)

On June 1, Marilyn and I went to our County Clerk’s office, which was open that Sunday to allow same-sex couples in civil unions to apply for marriage licenses on the first day that became possible in Illinois. By signing a piece of paper, we converted our civil union to a marriage.   Our marriage became effective as of three years earlier, the original date of the civil union. So, one minute we were not married, and another we had been married nearly three years. It felt like science-fiction, very joyful science fiction.  Now, our relationship is recognized both by our state and by the federal government. In Illinois we are equal to every other married couple. After decades of activism, the process was simple and the mood at the County Clerk’s moving and celebratory.  
  
I joke with Marilyn that our relationship’s legal status has been inversely proportional to the size of the cakes with which we have celebrated our union.  

On the afternoon of June 1, we celebrated with a small, brown-sugar-oatmeal cake, one of our favorites from The Cake Artist’s Studio. We shared it with a couple of close friends over cups of coffee after we all went out for barbecue.  Later, the four of us watched the local news coverage of the historic day at the County Clerk’s office. 

Three years earlier, when we had our civil union on June 17, 2011, we had five small cakes because we had so much to celebrate:  the fifth anniversary of our commitment ceremony, progress towards equality, and our civil union.  The ceremony at the courthouse lasted only two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, but it was as moving as our forty-minute commitment ceremony at the Unitarian Universalist Church had been five years earlier. Our state now recognized our union (though the federal government still did not). More than fifty local friends stopped by our house in the afternoon for cake and champagne. 

Back in 2006, when we had our commitment ceremony, we had a three-tiered cake, which we designed with the Cake Artist, and we even had an extra round cake to make sure there was enough for the hundred guests at our reception.  When my father asked whether our ceremony would be recorded in a government office and my mother asked whether an announcement would appear in the paper, I was touched--I was sorry I had to tell them both no.  The ceremony and our union had no standing in the eyes of the law.
 

When the marriage equality bill was first passed in Illinois last fall, Marilyn brought us a cake from—where else?—The Cake Artist’s Studio.  Even while we celebrated, I wondered whether filing tax returns would become easier.  After our civil union, we had to file more tax returns than we did before.  The state needed us to file as a married couple, but to do that we had to create a federal tax return as a married couple—a return we could not file with the IRS.  So when we did our taxes, we had to generate four returns: two federal returns that we filed as single people, and then the “fake” married federal return to generate the married state tax return. It made us crazy. I joked that this was a conspiracy: “Sure! We’ll give those gays equal rights.  Well, almost equal rights. And then we’ll make them fill out extra tax returns.  Even better, we’ll make them fill out tax returns that they cannot use.”   

I am thrilled to tell you that from now on, we can file one federal tax return as a married couple, and our state tax return will be generated easily after that, as it should be.  Ah, equality!  I think this calls for a slice of cake. 

(The formatting on blogspot is not cooperating today; please excuse the inconsistencies).

Iris on a Monday in May

Yesterday afternoon, my shoulders were tight and achy from calculating final grades for the spring semester--and from the decisions, transitions, and good byes involved in the end of an academic year.

I needed a break. So I went out on the deck for a few minutes to eat my lunch. As I sat in the sun and felt its warmth, my body relaxed.  

Nearby, the iris swayed in the breeze, bringing to mind Wordsworth and his dancing daffodils. 

I took a photo and returned to my work, feeling grateful for that moment.

Haiku for spring

Suddenly, leaves appear,

tips on branches. Blink, and you 

miss spring beginning.

New Harmony in the Spring

On the grounds of the New Harmony Inn.  We always stay in a room facing the pond.

When Marilyn and I want to get away to somewhere quiet and peaceful, we head south to New Harmony, Indiana.  Sometimes, we stop for ice cream or pizza in one of the small eastern Illinois towns on our way.  Driving on, we predict when we will round the turn and encounter rows of bright green John Deere tractors available for sale.  Then we know we are getting closer.  We look forward to entering the familiar, sleepy, historic small town of New Harmony--population 850--where we always stay at the New Harmony Inn and always eat at least one meal at the Red Geranium Restaurant. The predictability is soothing.  

On March 21, as spring break began, we headed south again.

We found out that New Harmony is celebrating its bicentennial, and the weekend we were there, there was a "spring fling" with artists and other vendors in the small downtown.  "There are people on the street!" I exclaimed, laughing, as we walked around in the cold sunshine on Saturday.This brochure shows a design that incorporates the labyrinth, a landmark of this town founded by Utopians in the nineteenth century.

 

To show you how small the town is, I'm including the enlargement of the town center, which has the flashing stoplight marked prominently.  As we drove around when we first arrived on Friday evening, we were the only car in the town center, other than the Sheriff's patrol car parked on the corner.  Once we arrive, we don't drive either.  We can get everywhere we want to on foot.

This photo was taken in the small, round chapel off of the Great Room where breakfast is served.  Even when the Great Room is full of conversation and clatter, this chapel feels like a place for meditation.

Just outside the chapel, we encountered this piece, which we coveted for our backyard. Art like this is scattered all around New Harmony.

  

This was carved into the back of a bench outside the town post office.  I love writing and receiving letters, so I had to photograph this.

We saw our first daffodils of the season!

I love the red door and white walls of this church.  (These are also the colors of our house).

This log house, next to the Red Geranium Restaurant, was built in 1814 and restored in 1959-60.

On Saturday afternoon, as the sun streamed into the Great Room of the Entry House, Marilyn worked on a quilt while I finished knitting the hat I had begun in January. 

We saw more signs of spring on our walk around the pond on Sunday morning.

Poetry can be found around New Harmony, too.  This was along a trail.  Auden wrote, "The trees encountered on a country street/Reveal a lot about a country's soul./A culture is no better than its woods." 

This is "Shalev: Angel of Compassion" by Tobi Kahn.  It is made of South Dakota granite and bronze.  In the distance, you can see the Wabash River.

Before we left town on Sunday afternoon, we walked the labyrinth.  These are our shadows.

February Afternoon in Meadowbrook Park

On the Sunday of Valentine's weekend, Marilyn and I took a walk in Meadowbrook Park.  While I, too, look forward to the spring, that walk reminded me again how breathtakingly beautiful the snow is. Despite the below-freezing temperatures, I took my gloves off again and again to take these pictures of the prairie in the snow.  They seem like a good way to close out this snowy February (though I hear we will be getting snow again as March gets going). 

Snapshots of Winter

This winter, the weather has been the story: sub-zero temperatures alternating with frequent snow falls. We joke that 20 degrees Fahrenheit feels warm. The snow cover makes an otherwise dark time of year feel blinding at times. Nothing feels "average."  

Last night, as the local news announced yet another winter weather advisory, I said to Marilyn, "They probably have that recorded and just play it every three days."  

Today, our college, which rarely has a snow day, closed at 1 p.m. because the travel conditions were deteriorating.  

All through this remarkable winter, I have been taking photos.  Here are some of them.

Over MLK weekend last month, we went to Chicago for three nights, to rest, to get away, to read in a quiet room in the bustle of the city. We arrived just as the snow began on Friday night.

 

                 This was our view on Saturday morning.

On Saturday, we walked around in the slushy cold with ice chips flying at our faces  As we ate lunch, we smiled at the snow outside the window, happy not to be driving.  By afternoon, the snow was heavy.  

We finally made it to the Museum of Contemporary Art because it was close to our hotel.  We laughed as we trudged through snow to get there and were wary as we looked up the long flight if stairs leading to the museum entrance. This photo and the next two were taken after we had made it inside.

Back home again, I woke to this sunrise on a weekday morning.

I laughed when I saw this sign as I drove home from downtown on a recent  Saturday morning.  The temps were in the single digits.  I was wearing long johns again--long johns that I used to wear a few times a year but which I have had to wear several times a week this winter.  Still, it was a reminder that summer will come.

On Valentine's Day, Marilyn left this plant for me on my desk at work.  It made me think of our rose bush in the back garden, of walking along the path lined with ajuga and daisies.  Yes, summer will come.

In the meantime, staying inside means plenty of time for knitting.  I recently went on a retreat where I learned to cable.  This is the hat I'm making now, one of the few things I knit that I will keep for myself.  I look forward to working on it every evening.