The Value Of Marriage

I’ve long supported same-sex marriage because I think marriage is a great institution.  It has made my life immeasurably better — so why shouldn’t every couple have the opportunity to enjoy its timeless benefits?  I simply don’t understand the objection to couples who want to legally declare and formalize their fidelity to each other.

I was therefore struck by the fact that Justice Kennedy’s majority decision in Obergefell v. Hodges, where the Court held that same-sex couples have a constitutional right to legally marry their partner, extols the value of marriage.  In fact, the opinion concludes with a ringing endorsement of the core, intrinsic value of marriage:

“No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.”

I am thrilled for my same-sex friends, and happy for every couple that will now have the ability to explore and revel in the wonders of a happy marriage.

Solving Family Mysteries, One Keystroke At A Time

It’s a legendary family story.  When Grandma and Grandpa Neal traveled to Ireland in the ’70s, they decided to take a carriage ride.  As the grizzled Irish driver was struggling to help my grandmother — a portly woman — into the carriage, he muttered: “You’re beef to the heels like a Mullingar heifer!”

Grandma, who had a wonderful sense of humor, thought it was one of the funniest comments ever — so of course we grandkids did, too.  But the driver’s jibe had an air of mystery and an almost lyrical quality that stuck with me.  A heifer was a cow, or course, but what, precisely, was a Mullingar heifer?

In those days, it would have taken forever to find out.  I suppose I could have gone to the reference section of the library, spoken to a severe-looking woman who probably would have been suspicious of my purported interest in Irish cattle, and with her assistance possibly located a massive book about bovine breeds that was available only in the library of the Ohio State University School of Veterinary Medicine.  It was too much work to satisfy a bit of idle curiosity, obviously, so I didn’t even try.

But then the internet was invented!  (Thanks, Al Gore!)  So when I was thinking with a chuckle of the Irishman’s comment the other day, I entered “Mullingar heifer” into the little box on Google, and lo and behold, I not only found pictures of the mysterious creature, one of which I’ve now posted here, but also learned that “beef to the heels like a Mullingar heifer” is a traditional Irish colloquialism typically used in connection with ladies with stout legs.  The latter discovery was a bit of a letdown, because for years I had been giving the Irish driver credit for coming up with a deft, original witticism.

Now that I’ve solved that decades-old mystery, it’s time to find the true origins of Mom’s exhortation to “put a little elbow grease into it!”

Thinking About Dad

On this Father’s Day, I’m thinking about Dad.  My guess is that most of the fathers out there will think, at some point today, about the man who played that role in their lives and who provided the personal examples, good and bad, of how to be a Dad.

I say good and bad because there aren’t many perfect Dads outside the black-and-white world of ’50s TV sitcoms.  Dad wasn’t a perfect father, and neither am I.  We all approach the job differently, drawing on our own experiences, aspirations, and fears, and we all make lots of mistakes that we beat ourselves up about.

webnerfamilyphoto3But here is the thing:  the missed baseball game or the seemingly unfair discipline or the harsh comment tend to fall away over time, sent skittering down the memory hole, and the perspective changes forever when you personally tackle the tough, infinitely challenging job of being a Dad.  When you understand how easily parenting blunders can be made, those blunders tend to be forgiven, and a big picture emerges that is a lot more balanced.

My Dad has been gone for many years, and when I think of him now I think mostly of his attitude.  Kish and I often quote, with a chuckle, two of Dad’s favorite sayings — “finding your niche” and “doing your own thing” — that Dad inevitably used, after first clearing his throat with a rumble, when he was told of a child’s decision to follow an unconventional life or career path.  It was a remarkably easygoing attitude for a man who experienced the Great Depression as a child and who was himself highly motivated to achieve traditional financial success, but Dad really meant it. I always appreciated that approach, and I’ve come to appreciate it even more as the years have passed.

There are deeper elements to that attitude, when you think about it.  It is rooted in trust and confidence and understanding:  trust that his kids would eventually find our way to a good and fulfilling life, confidence that he and Mom gave us a sufficient grounding in appropriate behavior that we wouldn’t end up in a biker gang, and understanding that there is no one-size-fits-all path to happiness.  It is a liberating attitude, too, for both parent and child.  The parent isn’t frazzled by constant worry about whether their child will measure up to their own definition of personal success, and the child isn’t burdened by the ever-present specter of parental disapproval about this decision, or that.

Thanks, Dad, for that lesson — and Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads out there.

UJ B-Day

On the east coast, at least, it is my older brother’s birthday. The eternally youthful UJ is 59 today. He was born in 1956, just before Dwight Eisenhower was re-elected. next year he will be 60. 60!

I tried to find a picture of Jim to post with this, but I was unsuccessful. Rather than pictures of UG, my Google search uncovered pictures of a camel,

A camel? Ah, well. Happy 59th, UJ!

The Fun Zone

  

I suppose there could conceivably be better things than sitting in your backyard on a beautiful early summer evening, smoking a cigar and drinking an ice-cold Budweiser, eating heaping handfuls of wasabi peas and following your favorite baseball team on your ESPN iPhone app . . . but I can’t think of what they might be right now.

Cookies For Crohn’s

IMG_5606My sister, Cath, is a very determined and persuasive person.  So when she asked me to bake some cookies for the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation fundraiser being hosted by my nephew tonight at JT’s Pizza, I bowed to the inevitable.

If you’re in the Columbus area at 5:30 tonight and close to JT’s Pizza at 2390 Dublin-Granville Road, stop by!  It’s a good cause.

Lost Dog

IMG_5592I passed this already weathered poster on my way to work this morning, and the lost, big-eyed expression on Frida’s face made me want to ditch work and go looking for her then and there.  I didn’t, of course, but I did keep an eye out for her on my walks to and from the office.  The picture made it easy to imagine the little dog shivering, rain-soaked, and unable to find her way home.  Unfortunately, Frida was nowhere to be found.

There are few things sadder and more heart-tugging than a “lost dog” poster on a telephone pole.  All dog owners can identify with the person who turned around and found that her dog darted away, or was mysteriously gone from the backyard.  We can envision the frantic, fruitless search, the drive through nearby streets looking for the lost pup, and then finally the desperation that causes the little Xeroxed signs to be stapled to telephone poles and bulletin boards in hopes that someone might have seen the beloved family pet.

Keep an eye out for Frida, will you?