News, All Sorts

Ah, Monday. How very refreshing. Most especially so after the events of Sunday’s PrideFest, at which my partner and I managed both feats of marching and socializing! And I have the sunburn to prove it. That parade seems to grow in length every year, and the crowds were as many leagues deep as I’ve seen them. I touted a sign in my partner’s name, and some 25 volunteers handed out candy and blew bubbles. All, as such, helped us as we undertook the very first steps of my partner’s new campaign for 2010. Indeed, an election to the office of Representative lasts barely as long as the campaign trail that leads to it! Some Members are just happless enough to have been elected to a contested seat, and the attack ads asperse them already. Some are elected, and begin campaigning immediately for the next election two years down the road!

Anyway, what I really wanted to post are a few details from last week, when I was in DC. Of couse, we attended the Congressional Luau on Thursday, but let me first narrate the wild tale of what happened an hour before our beloved picnic at the White House.

As many know, the LGBT community is in an uproar over President Obama’s seeming lack of regard for our civil rights issues. His administration has done little thus far to curb the military layoffs consequent upon a policy called “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”, which allows for the dismissal of gays and lesbians from any branch of armed services, based solely upon their sexuality. Then there is the Defense of Marriage Act, which renders non-transferable any marriage certificate obtained in a state that allows same-sex marriage, to a state that does not. In other words, couples having been married in Iowa, will discover their marriage means nothing in Nebraska. The Obama administration, several weeks ago, condoned this Act, in a press release that adopted untoward terminology in the description of same-sex relationships. Needless to say, all of this has incensed the community to no end, and many are making public, their dissatisfaction.

Rewind to last Thursday, my partner and I had arranged to attend the DNC fundraiser hosted by Joe Biden, which would raise money for the Democratic Party, from LGBT donors. As we arrived, protesters from the other side of the street, derided us for being hypocritical” Shame on you, supporting Obama when he doesn’t care about you!” In all honesty, I saw reason in what they were saying, and I myself am quite saddened that Obama has yet to make good on several key campaign promises. What I did not agree to, was punishing the entire Democratic party for one man’s actions. If we do not support Democrats, we’ll end up with Republicans, and they may ennact even worse legislaton at the expense of the LGBT community. I certainly feel safer with Democrats, and know that Mr. Obama will, in time, attend to our civil rights. In the meantime, I cannot help but feel that many political activists are refusing to see the entirety of this issue. Rarely if ever, does a bill come to pass that affects only one group of people. Likewise, to protest the DNC’s fundraising will hurt us more than help us in our quest for civil rights.

So not to linger on this unfortunate issue, let me get to the picnic.

We arrived just shortly after it had begun! We were led through the White House by numerous staff, each of whom greeted us wit, “Aloha!” How very authentic. At last, we reached the front lawns, and beheld some 250 banquet tables arranged in a large circle, with grill stations and bars in each of the 4 directions. Memberers of Congress and their families were in attendance, as well as White House staff. The menu was not altogether vegan-friendly, with features primarily of meat and vegetables doused in butter. I did find a sadly neglected bowl of greens, and ate them with vinegar dressing, but I was left with my stomach growling!

The event itself was lovely. President Obama and the First Lady made appearances, and Rahm Emanuel had the unenviable luck to be chosen for the dunking tank, where many members of Congress were all t0o-eager to give him a plunge!

Owing to our attendance of the DNC event, my partner and I were woefully overdressed in suits and ties, thoug a lei helped mitigate our formality. But other partiers were decked out in hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. Spring was everywhere, and I had the best time sharing stories and experiences with fellow Congressional Spouses and Members.

It was awe-inspiring to stand mere steps from the front facade of the White House, that I might easily have reached out and touched the storied building with my hand, or passed even into its vestibule. So also, I could barely believe myself and the reality of my being there, when I walked right up to the famed White House fountain, which is ever present in news coverage and whenver DC is the talk of the hour.

Now that’s one way to spend a Thursday!

Solemnity

I was heartbroken yesterday when I read the news of Michael Jackson’s passing. I haven’t words to describe the heaviness I feel, or the bitterness of my thoughts. And I am confused. Confused that our lives are this fragile. That we can be here, then not be here.

For nearly ten years, I’ve been able to share my sister’s passion for this man who has seemed to me to be a saint in every way. His artistry was without compare; his brilliance, unsurpassed. And as a human being, I think I’ve only ever known one or two who’s depth of generosity and caring might equal his own. It is a wretched thought, the world without Michael Jackson in it. And like too many whose lives are senselessly cut short, I can’t even begin to understand why such things always seem to befall those who deserve life, to live it without suffering, and to be loved for the love they give unselfishly.

I hope his lessons are not lost on a people who too easily forget the difference an individual can make. I hope people now realize how rarely a person comes along who gives of himself boundlessly, and asks nothing in return. Michael was more than a great artist. He was a giant of humanity, and a model for all people. He was a hero.

Tours

Hello, Friends,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in so many days! I spent the weekend and Monday in Boulder, and was having such fun. I couldn’t possibly have willed my feelings into words, not even by contortions. It was one of those pleasant recesses we so often idolize, when time passes without notice. I was all on my own and quite frivolous, but now I must be ashamed, for no serious thoughts emerged from these gambols.  Not that gravity should ever inher from levity, but it would make my antics so much easier to defend! Are we not, after all, taught that productivity is best? Alas, things being what they were, one might accuse me of anything else. I was not productive!

So let’s get to last week that I might feel less slothful! Something quite exciting occured, yet all these many months later, long after it should already have happened. I gave my first tour of the US Capitol! Part of my delay had to do with a lack of confidence. In truth, The Capitol is a large and many-splendored building. It is replete with historical artifacts, as well as with living specimens of our modern Democracy. I watched for some time, all the professional tour guides, who are known by their red blazers and their seeming of authority, and I could not help but feel that my two-day training had been inadequate. I could recite so many facts, but had really only been in the visitor’s center 2 or 3 times. So I set about studying my notes, and reviewing the slides that my teachers had provided. I spent a month commiting facts and figures to memory. I visited the Capitol no less than five times, and spent many hours before statues and paintings. I decided during those times, upon the things that most interested me in the Capitol’s art and architecture. These would be the aspects of focus whenever I shared my enthusiasm with tourists. So it happened, I received a note from my partner’s office, informing me that constituents were en route and excited to receive a tour. I was the man for the job! And after several months, I really did feel more confident, though I suffered to remain still very slightly unsure. 

The day came, and my tourists were three: a husband and wife, and their son who had lately entered the 7th grade. I spent in excess of an hour taking them around and showing them the sights. My teachers encouraged no more than 30 minutes for the length of a tour, so I’ll no doubt have to trim down what I say. But so much is thrilling that must be noted, and so I don’t feel all that terrible about my extravagance. My only wish is that I could have known the things to say that would stop the 7th grader from yawning! History is never quite as exciting for the young, is it?

On Monday of this week, I was forwarded a ”thank you” note from the tourists, who said that their time in the Capitol was a highlight of their week in DC. Well, then! I was quite pleased, and am now fully confident that I can make people happy, even as I dispense endless facts about a 200 year-old building!

As Fate would have it, I finished my week in DC giving a tour of the White House. This being my first, I was quite delighted with the experience. White House tours book up nearly four months in advance. If a tourist is particularly keen on visiting the President’s home, he or she must be absurdly organized in contacting their Representative’s office. The family I took, had attempted to go through official channels to line up a tour, but they had been unsuccessful. The next step would be to bypass the process, and arrange accompaniment either by myself or by my partner. This was done, but little did I know with what privelege I might walk right up to the gates of the imposing residence, show my spouse ID, and gain entry, though a line 100 persons long might be in waiting. Indeed, this particular day, the line of confirmed tourists was just as long, and it would have been torture to wait for admission. Bear in mind, these were the fortunate individuals who had arranged their tours months before. These were the lucky ones! Their prize would eventually be a tour of the White House, but they would have to wait.

I felt more than slightly puffed up as I directed the family at once to the gates, and smiled at the thought that I had spared them the line. So I say, if any of my friends who are also my readers, wish for a no-strings-attached White House tour, I would happily oblige. We’ll get you in fast, without any of the delay! It’s one of the benefits of being a Congressional Spouse that I can bypass so many lines!

Tomorrow is the White House picnic! I’ve looked forward to it for months, and I’ll be able to share the story. I wonder if I should deck out in Hawaiian vestments in honor of the theme, which is Luau!  Until tomorrow night, my friends…

The Princess and The Pea

But to sleep as I did when I, with the world, was younger, ah, that would be sweet!

I woke at 4am last night, unable to get back whence I came, and was up until the break of day. Surely these restless nights form an index to my one, abiding problem with a new life in Washington: the unmitigated hours spent in cross-country flight, the breakdown of our schedules, the surrender of normality, the strangeness of midnights that start us awake from the seeming of peacefulness. I am at a loss how otherwise to address these broken cycles, but by the use of sleep aids, but I refuse! I refuse to employ artificial means to the solution of a problem that is, itself, artificial.    

When you think about it, much of what we, as humans, do, is painfully unnatural. The hours we keep are merely one among a thousand such infringements against natural law. Though the world does not turn off at the close of a business day, yet we make it nearly impossible on ourselves to get anything done at night. We schedule the opening and closing of stores, of banks, of doctor offices, such that the sleepless among us are without recourse. They are adrift between the hours of 12 and 6, and when light returns to the world, they pay an anguished balance for their unspent slumber. So, too, we relegate to nighttime all the unsavory engagements that our society frowns upon: midnight casts with morals crepuscular as their black-domed theaters.  

And yet, our senses remain so untarnished as to cry out in agony when our abuse of them comes to be unbearable. It occurs to us only when we are in pain, that the way we live may not be healthy. Where does this pain originate? When will it stop? Is it a sign? In the early parts of our lives, we are at liberty to make mistakes and to bounce back from our upsets. But as the years progress, diseases take their toll more potently, and we are left with the aftershocks reverberating out of time. It is a damn good argument to get ourselves in shape while we still have time, before problems become conditions.

With a new schedule demanding weekly cross-country travel, I am reminded how crucially important it is to take care of ourselves. Right now, I’m suffering a sleepless night here and there, but what of next year, when habit becomes lifestyle? I must attend to these problems now before I am forced to take medicine!

Rules Are Meant To…

Last night, mere minutes after arriving back home in DC, I was summoned by my partner to a special “midnight” meeting of the Rules Committee. He enticed me with the promise of very spirited debate between Members. And being one who loves to watch fireworks go off, I wasn’t about to miss it! 

Rather than delve too deeply into the finer points of legislative process, I will say only that the House as a whole consists of 435 members, of which my partner is one. Each member is assigned to a Committee, and most serve on two to three. The logic behind Committees is self-evident: that is, how does a body consisting of so few take account of the innumerable bills that come up for debate in the course of one legislative session? It would be impossible, but for the fact that the Speaker of The House, at the beginning of the life cycle of any bill, assigns it to its relevant Committees. If, for example, a bill relates to the expenditure of government money, she routs it to the “Appropriations Committee”. If a bill pertains to the war in Iraq, it is channeled to the ”Armed Services Committee”. And in the case of my partner, he sits on the “Education and Labor” and “Rules” Committees. 

Rules is an exceptional Committee assignment for a Freshman Member. Because it holds such sway over the parameters of how a bill is discussed, it was once an “Exclusive Committee”, meaning that its membership required  the participation of its Members to the exclusion of any other committees. Happily, it is no longer so possessive of its Members, and they are at liberty to serve on, at most, one other committee.  

Rules  is the final stop for any bill before it arrives on the House floor. And the jurisdiction of the Rules Committee is to determine, quite literally, the “rules” under which the bill may be discussed once it comes before the Committee of The Whole. Will members of the House be permitted to submit amendments? If so, how many? How long can these amendments be discussed? So on and so forth.

Last night, Rules met to discuss an upcoming Appropriations Bill. Unique to this discussion, however, was the proposal that the bill be permitted to come up for a vote with what is called a “closed” rule. In other words, only a finite number of amendments would be permitted, and most of these to originate with the Democrats. In the history of Appropriations bills, this particular proposal is almost unprecedented. Discussion is always permitted, and members on the House floor are never limited in the number of amendments they can offer. This is especially vexing for the Republican members, who had no doubt counted upon introducing as many changes as they saw fit. My most elementary understanding of the logic behind the proposal, is that the Republicans requested an unusually high number of amendments.  Thus, the Democrats, who are currently a majority, sought to limit discussion, which could prolong passage of the bill.

My partner wasn’t lying when he promised impassioned arguments on both sides of the aisle. The Republicans consist of less than half the Committee (in which the majority always makes up two times the minority plus 1; this is done to ensure that the majority is able to overcome minority opposition if the need arises, and it often does!)

I could go into details over what precisely was said, but there is no need to get excessive. Instead, I’d like to make an amusing observation that the culture of Washington is somewhat old-fashioned. The manner of address between members is exceedingly formal and fraught with ceremony. My partner is referred to as, “The Gentleman from Colorado.” And this format is used for all men in the Congress. All women Members are referred to as “The Gentlelady”. These rules of engagement are supremely amusing to witness, if for no other reason than that they often provide a counterpoint to the way a member actually feels. Though a Democrat is bound to thank a Republican for speaking, it is done all in the spirit of civility, and for no other reason besides.  ”I would like to thank my friend, the Gentlelady from X, for yielding. But I must respectfully disagree on the grounds that…”

Translation: “Are you a madwoman?!”

It is easy to imagine how laugh-out-loud funny it can be, when the debate reaches a fever pitch, as it did last night, and members are at the very verge of screaming, but still they adopt the niceties of social etiquette and refer to one another as Gentlemen and Gentleladies. If anything attests the absurdity of all that we do as civilized animals, it is that we attempt to subvert our strongest feelings and paint them over with the appearance of composure.

Congressional Baseball

Greetings, friends, on my final day in Boulder! Now are the dreaded penultimate moments before tomorrow’s long flight back to DC. Happily, I was able to convince all concerned parties that my presence in DC might be put off just a day longer than scheduled, that I might take for myself a much-needed breather in my hometown without consequence to others. So here I am!

But, really, my trip Eastward won’t be so very arduous this time on account of an event to which I’ve looked forward for some time.

The Congressional Baseball Game now set for this coming Wednesday evening, is a tradition among members of the House and the Senate. Each year, athletically-inclined Representatives sign up to play according to their party affiliations, and as a benefit to the Boys and Girls Club of America (an after-school program geared to keep kids occupied and out of harm’s way). Aptly so, my partner is playing with his fellow Democrats, whose year it is to win after a long stretch of Republican victories.

For two months, during our weeks in Washington, my partner has risen with the sun at the nethermost start of his day, and participated in practice sessions that last an hour. The first day he came back from practice, I asked how he might judge the team’s abilities, and he surprised me, though in retrospect, I should have nodded without wonder. Of course Congresspeople are sporting! And not simply in a judicial sort of way. In fact, my partner, who is quite a hand at baseball in his own right, had only the greatest encomium to speak on behalf of his teammates. He accounted to their skills, noting that members are naturally overachievers, and so it comes as no surprise they should demonstrate acumen in sports, as well.

On Wednesday night, I’ll witness the game in-person, and I’m very excited. I was never much for professional sports, until my partner took the time to explain the rules, and now I can’t get enough. I’m especially fond of America’s pastime. It’s such a complex game.

Complaints

What they never tell you about complaining: there’s always someone to hold you accountable. As if so many greivances could fly from the mouth without consequence! The reality, alas, is that the moment you “air” your dissatisfactions, you’ve made them real to the rest of the world. Until that time, they held almost abstract station in the domain of your thoughts. It mattered little whether  you acted upon them. Who was to know the depth of your unhappiness? It was a secret between your heart and your mind. But negative energy is as bitter a pill to others as it is to oneself. It is the wish of one’s audience, that it be stamped out and never revived. They say, “if something’s bothering you, do something about it!” And why not? Why let a problem persist, if you perceive it to be such? Why not be the good person or the righteous person or the good samaritan, and do it to be done with it?

Well, I recently complained without first realizing these prerequisites. And such is my lot that I am surrounded by a particularly action-oriented crowd. To them, it is too much to ask that I complain of things without being held to redress them. Knowing full-well that a complaint means an intention to act,  it’s been quite some time since I last fulminated against something I had no real wish of addressing. Of things that aggrieve me, I do wish something to be done, though I may not wish myself to be the activist. But now I’ve done it, and I must take action. My friends and family expect it of me. They won’t tolerate whining.

I write of it today, rather ambiguously, because I think it is an important lesson not to be forgot, that when we perceive something in need of change, we not merely talk about changing it, but we undertake the actions thereto. I am certain I am not alone in complaining about things that I wish others would change. Next time, before voicing dissatisfaction, I’ll think to myself, “am I ready to answer for my complaints?” For scarcely are they less, than a personal call to action.

TravHell

Today, more than usual, I feel myself run-down. I have a notion that the cause is travelling. Indeed. But before I go into bemoaning my lot, a disclaimer seems in order: for those who may hereafter believe me to be more querulous than I am, I beg their pardon and protest, for I very well know how fortunate I am to be in such a situation that travel is even possible. I realize that to most indivuals, a trip away from home is a rare thing to be regarded with utmost appreciation. If it is not cost that precludes us from taking wing, then it is another reason with one of a thousand different faces. Perhaps we have professional obligations. Perhaps we have family. One sees, in the distance, the promise of something new and exciting, and one repines thereafter. Nothing is so fresh as a vision of elsewhere. But enough poetry! This is an honest complaint, and I must confess it as it is felt.

Two weekends ago, I was home in Boulder. I had been there only a short while–ten days–which, now, seems like pennies from Heaven. Had I but known the rigors of Congressional travel before my partner’s victory last November, I might then have appreciated the endless days in rows that came to me when I lived in Boulder, more or less, year-round. Alas, all good things come to an end, and my moments in Boulder was destined betimes, to shorten to a trickle. When our ten day “vacation” was spent, we returned to DC. The unerring flight time of 4 hours from DIA to Regan National Airport is quite unbearable in its own right. It was especially so this evening, when inclement weather had grounded all departing flights for nearly an hour. Only picture that we were number 20 in a queue twenty planes long. Now imagine the insufferable waiting, if only to BEGIN the four hour odyssey Eastward! It was only my 35th time this year making the commute. But let me assure my readers, by the 5th time, I had exhausted every last song on my iPod. I took shortly thereafter, to reading, which has been a happy return for me, and long-overdue since my days as a college student.

We arrived back in DC that evening, and spent the week as we usually spend it: politicking. My own experience was fraught with a thousand nameless and equally lackluster domestic chores. But let me go on. The weekend arrived, and again, we were boarding a plane to Seattle, Washington, details of which I have already written in my post entitled “CoDels”. We spent two, blustery days in that Northwestern city, before we were again en route to DC. Now we have been here for four days, and tomorrow we depart back to Boulder, alas, for only two days. Our return will be on Monday, and we will repeat the process again, and again, and again, interminably, irrevocably. I must wait patiently until August, when we will enjoy a month-long Congressional recess, and I won’t have to think about this city of Washington for at least half of that time (the latter half of any vacation being always imperfect with the dread of a return to business as usual.) 

Most Congressional Spouses have the good sense to stay back in the district, but I have elected to match my partner’s schedule because I miss our time together when we are apart. Time is too precious to squander the evenings when we are permitted just an hour or two.

How very exhausted I am, with how much of wanting for the weekend to last longer than two days! I hate even to utter it: that a trip back to Boulder for only so many hours, is hardly worth the trouble at all!

Antibiotics

There is a wonderful vegan bakery in Washington, DC. It is called “Sticky Fingers” and it is located in the Columbia Heights neighborhood of the city. Once a week, I ceremonially give myself the pleasure of visiting this fine establishment and purchasing a few pastries to bring home with me. The menu is impressive by any standard, featuring a vast assortment of both sweet and savory foods. Cupcakes and cookies of every kind crowd the display window. Every kind of lunch food you can imagine, is available, from “egg salad”  to “chicken nuggets”. Today, I bought an oatmeal cookie sandwich, and I had a vegan grilled cheese sandwich. This was an ecstatic experience, as it’s been years since I last had grilled cheese! Sometimes, vegan foods are made so exactly to imitate their non-vegan equivalents, that I am put off by the effect. After years, I find myself no longer craving the taste of chicken or beef. But some vegans do prefer their food to be “dead ringers”. A few weeks ago, I visited the vegan fast food restaurant in Boulder, VG Burger, on the corner of Broadway and Arapahoe. I adore their many offerings, and highly recommend everyone stop in for a veggie burger. This particular day, however, I ordered a “chicken” sandwich, and it came out tasting like real chicken! I was very uncomfortable, and would definitely have asked to confirm it was vegetable-based had I not already been sure of VG’s policies. Really, the only food I wish to be accurately mimicked, is dessert, because I do have a sweet tooth, and when I wasn’t vegan, pastries and cookies were always my favorite at any table, any time of the day. I am happy to say that vegan baking has been elevated to an art form and I frequently enjoy desserts that are every bit the equal of those made with milk, eggs, and butter. 

But I digress! As I was on my way to Sticky Fingers, I entered the Metro Station at Capitol South to take the train to Columbia Heights, and I noticed as I went underground, that a new ad campaign had replaced the old on the walls of the station. This new campaign consisted of multiple billboards with farm animals, and the words on each poster quoted facts about the use of antibiotics to treat factory farmed livestock. The gist was this: that 70% of the antibiotics manufactured in our country go to treat animals in factory farms, rather than people in hospitals and doctors offices. I am certain these ads were devised by an animal rights organization, because this is a pillar argument for veganism.

Owing to the crowded and unsanitary conditions in which livestock are raised, animals frequently succumb to illness and disease. You may recall the large-scale beef recall of one year ago, in which the USDA cautioned consumers against eating beef from California, where meat from “downed animals” had made it into the food supply and onto store shelves. The recall resulted in state-level legislation mandating that ”downed animals” (those too enfeebled by disease to stand), not be converted to food supply. In reality, this sort of thing happens all the time, though perhaps not so publicly as it did last year. In order to inoculate livestock against the spread of disease, farmers administer massive amounts of antibiotics to ward off illness until the cow or the chicken or the pig, is ready for slaughter. Antibiotics effectively “mask” underlying disease, which surfaces at a disturbing rate in crowded feedlots. The preemptive use of medicines against the inveitable spread of disease, has a disastrous effect beyond the cost analysis: our antibiotics are actually becoming less effective in human subjects because they are being overused in animal subjects. By the time meat arrives on consumer plates, it has been dosed who knows how many times to prevent the onset of disease. After a while, bacteria forms immunity to these drugs, and antibiotic-resistant strains develop. 

I was happy to see this information dispatched so well in plain sight. It was impossible to miss as Metro riders descended the escalator to the platform. Whoever devised the campaign deserves a round of applause, as it will raise this important issue to the consciousness of those who might not have considered yet another downside to the factory farming industry.

CoDels

I’ve been waiting the last three days to be able to share the details of my weekend. Being naturally quite secretive, that tendency has served me well in Washington. But I have wished many a time, to have such freedom as I desired, to divulge everything and to lay bare all the particulars of the situations in which I find myself. It is an exciting life, and the stories I could tell might even now, only 5 months later, fill a volume of respectable size. 

Alas, total revelation dashes mystery and it is quite forbidden. So I content myself to share only what it is mine to share. And happily, that includes my trip this past weekend to Seattle, Washington.

About two weeks ago, my partner informed me that he would like me to join him on his upcoming CoDel to the Northwest. ”CoDel” is short for Congressional Delegation. Regularly consisting of between five and ten Congresspeople from both the House and Senate, these Delegations then visit areas where they can make a close study of a particular issue. My partner’s trip to Iraq last month was, itself, a CoDel intended to further study the state of affairs in Iraq, and to gain first-hand understanding of the people and how the war is effecting reconstruction. The objective of any CoDel is to bring back information to Washington that will serve both citizens and members of Congress as new pieces of legislation are drafted and put up to a vote.

As a Congressional Spouse, I am lucky enough to be able to accompany my partner on most CoDels, though trips to military zones are restricted. My partner is even at liberty to organize a CoDel of his own, should he find merit in the idea. There is a restriction, however, that CoDels are to be kept secret until after their completion, and this is why I have not shared my stories until today.

Getting back to this weekend, I accepted my partner’s offer and made ready for my very first CoDel! I was excited after everything he had told me of his previous experiences.

Monday came,  and I received a bit of rather shocking news. Apparently, my partner’s request to have my name added to the manifest, had been denied by the military, on the grounds that our “unmarried” status meant that I was not officially a Congressional Spouse, and so I should not be permitted to take the trip with him. You can imagine my upset. We have been a couple for six years, longer than some couples I know who have been married after two. I have an ID card that very clearly identifies me as a Congressional Spouse, and I’ve had no trouble thus far gaining the recognition that is just and fair. It was also not lost on me that their claim against ”unmarried” couples was totally inappropriate, given that the LGBTQ community is still waiting for marriage rights in Washington, DC (not to mention all over the rest of the country!) Would their position truly change were we officially married in one of the states that permits it? Hard to say. When asked, they said they would have to research it. They had hammered home the inherent discrimination that continues to divide our military even today.

The week went on, and I received daily updates from my partner’s office, from his chief of staff who had gone through all the usual channels to have the policy suspended. Finally, all else failing, we contacted the Speaker of The House, Nancy Pelosi, who is effectively the most powerful woman in the United States. She ranks second in line from the President. It is silly that we had to go so high up to have this rule suspended. We were informed of what we already knew–that this was disappointing on the part of the military, though not the first time it had happened; Representative Tammy Baldwin from Wisconsin went through similar hoops to have her partner of fourteen years recognized, and thankfully she succeeded. The Speaker reiterated her assurance that I would have a place on the plane. And on Thursday, we received the happy news that I was cleared for takeoff, and I would be extended all the usual courtesies one expects as a Congressional Spouse.

On Friday, bags in hand, we set forth. Before I was permitted to set foot on the bus which would carry us to Andrews Airforce Base, I had to endure one final attempt on the part of the military personnel to dissuade my partner from having me accompany him. This was quickly addressed when, without missing a beat, he pulled out his CNN camera and began to capture the officer’s protests. Needless to say, it didn’t cast a favorable light on the reputations of those who were trying to boot me from the CoDel. We’ll see if this week’s CNN episode of Freshman Year includes any of what my partner captured. It will prove a point, it it does.

I made it on board finally, and we were driven to the Air Force Base, where we boarded a C-40C airplane en route for Seattle, Washington. The mission of the CoDel would be the Annual US-Mexico Interparliamentary Meeting. Representatives from the US and Mexican Congresses would have dialogues for two days about the current and future relationship between our two countries.

The plane we flew to Seattle was quite impressive. It wasn’t a commercial craft with the usual “United” or “Frontier” printed on its sides, but a real military vehicle stamped with the words “United States of America”. We were attended on board by a military staff, who saw to our needs and made the entire flight very comfortable. Lunch was a real treat: they had taken extra pains to prepare a vegan “turkey” wrap for me, using meatless turkey slices and vegetable cheese. Thanks to these efforts, I had exactly the meal that everyone else enjoyed (a rarity, I assure you!) I wonder what would have happened if all these preparations had been made, but I had been restrained from participating.

After arriving in Seattle, we spent two days attending panel talks and dinners. The experience was wonderful and enlightening. I loved having the opportunity to hear the perspectives of the Mexican Congress as its members articulated a disposition to work with the United States in tackling such large-scale issues as global warming and immigration policies. It was a wonderful showing of friendship between our two countries.

Yesterday, we arrived back into DC, and are here for the remainder of the week. Next up, I’m looking forward to the annual White House picnic on June 25th. This year, in Honor of President Obama’s connection to Hawaii, the event will be titled and themed, ”The Congressional Luau”!