“I have overwhelming respect for the sanctity of marriage,” says Vin Scully, voice of the Los Angeles Dodgers for 62 years in today’s New York Times. Mr. Scully was referring to the marital discord of Frank and Jamie McCourt, the gajillionaires who lost control of the Dodgers in a messy divorce.
While I have not conducted systematic research, I feel safe in saying Mr. Scully’s is one of the few statements on marriage in today’s news that is not a reaction to President Barack Obama’s endorsement of same sex marriage yesterday.
Mr. Obama’s outing (so to speak) on this issue was forced by Vice President Joe Biden’s remark Sunday that he feels comfortable with same sex marriage. Some people called it another Joe Biden gaffe, some said it was a tactical move, who knows? Who cares? The point is that it’s long overdue for the president to stand up and say the right thing.
Civil unions were legalized in Vermont in 2000. It was forced on the legislature by the Vermont Supreme Court; there was huge hue and cry, anti-abortion activist Randall Terry showed up in a full-length fur cot and predicted the end of civilization. Then- Governor Howard Dean signed the bill into law behind closed doors and allowed no photos to be taken of the historic event. Bet he’s screaming at himself now.
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Can I See Some ID?
I was in Washington a few weeks ago and attended an event at a bar. I showed up with my colleague Charlie; we’re both in our 50s, our hair is gray or thinning or both, our faces seamed by decades of care. No one could mistake us for teens, but we pulled out our photo IDs and showed the bouncer. We had to; otherwise we couldn’t get in.
Eight years ago, I wrote in this space that I possessed one of the few non-photo driver’s licenses left in America. I finally submitted to the tyranny of the camera when I renewed my license in 2009. Between frequent flying and DC bar-hopping it was just too much of a hassle to remember to always bring my passport.
Later, Charlie and I talked about how reflexive and normal the reach for ID has become. It used to irritate me (as many things do) and tempted as I was to engage pointless, philosophical discussions with bouncers (“Really? What’s the likelihood I’m under 21?”) I knew they were trying to hang onto not-very-remunerative jobs in a tough economy (and they were, after all, bouncers).
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