While I was shopping around Brooklyn for my buddy’s gift, I found this.
I’m no expert so I’ll need someone to tell me if this figurine is anything close to historically accurate.
I was revolted to hear the news that the Inne at the Abingtons refused to book a same-sex couple’s wedding.
NORTH ABINGTON TWP. — When Pennsylvania’s gay marriage ban was ruled unconstitutional by a federal court, Desiree Mark of Greenfield Twp. abandoned her plans to be married in New York or Connecticut and happily focused on planning a wedding in her home state.
When the 29-year-old sent queries to Scranton area wedding venues requesting an appointment, she learned that marriage equality does not mean equality for gays and lesbians.
“Unfortunately, we do not hold same sex marriages at our facility,” read the email from Courtney Killeen, Wedding & Event Planner for Inne at the Abingtons. “I truly do hope you find somewhere that will fulfill all your wedding dreams.”
Met at the North Abington Twp. venue Thursday, Ms. Killeen confirmed the email was authentic and reflected the policy of the Inne, not her personal belief.
“I don’t agree with it,” she said, adding the owner, John O. Antolick, would be unlikely to comment publicly. Mr. Antolick did not respond to several requests for an interview.
Gays and lesbians gained the legal right to marry in Pennsylvania this year, but can be blocked from reception venues. With no legal protections for LGBT people in Pennsylvania, any business can refuse to serve someone who is, or perceived to be, lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender.
You can read the rest of the story here.
If there’s a bright spot, it’s that the comments were surprisingly civilized.
I can only hope that we move beyond such ridiculousness sooner rather than later.
Google Maps told me the walk would be 0.9 miles. The humidity was rising, but a mile isn’t so far.
Once I passed the McCarren Park pool, the walk started sucking. The part of Greenpoint I found myself in would be best described as Not Cute. Homely, perhaps, as opposed to homey.
Around the 0.7 mile mark, I wanted to shout “this is for you, Maasai kids!” but they couldn’t possibly have heard me over the noise from the BQE.
I started crying almost as soon as I walked into the Greenpoint dollar store.
Not because I was in a dollar store, per se, but because as I shuffled up and down the aisles, I was reminded of the directions my trip organizer had given me about how to choose a gift for my “buddy,” the student who would be my companion during my days volunteering at the Maasai school.
Books need to be culturally sensitive. Don’t buy candy–most of the kids won’t have a toothbrush.
Avoid anything that requires batteries or electricity. These kids don’t have access to either. A well-intentioned volunteer gave his buddy an iPod, but once the battery dies, it’s useless.
Good gifts include a simple journal, a solar-powered flashlight or a puzzle that shows a picture the kids can relate to.
At the dollar store, I felt like a failure. None of the toys seemed right for my teenage buddy, a fourteen year old boy named Steven.
As I put a notebook, a pack of pencils and a pencil case in my cart, my heart sank: I had just committed to buying office supplies for someone who will almost certainly help me have an eye-opening, life-affecting experience.
I suppose he already has, in some ways.
Hopefully when the time comes, my modest gifts will somehow be the right ones.
[For context, this post was written on late on Thursday, July 10 and scheduled for Monday, July 14. I'm set to present these tokens to Steven on Friday, July 18.]
As you read this, I’m on a flight to Kenya. Crazy, right?
Instead of scrambling to schedule lots of blog posts, I ran last minute errands and…got a mani-pedi.
So sue me.
There are a few posts in the queue, but it will be a little quiet around here July 23 or so. Hopefully absence will make your heart grow fonder.
Spotted at my neighborhood bodega.
(I bought the ‘arrugula’ and brie)
Staying up past my ‘bedtime’ has been a way of life, all of my life. As much as I love sleep, I happen to like having my sleep start late.
I couldn’t tell you if nature or nature made me a night owl. My father in particular, loves to stay up late and when I’m in Rehoboth with my family or back home in Scranton, I am shocked if I find my father has gone to sleep before me.
Even in my earliest memories, I exist as a night owl.
When I was a little kid, my dad worked second shift so I spent most nights with Mom and Nana. While Nana would often retreat to her bedroom in the early evening, my goal was to stay downstairs in the den with my TV-watching Mom as late as possible.