Ham

I ate with some of my favorite people last night - a ham dinner at my cousin's house in Concord, CA. His parents make the world go 'round for me. Really. And I feel pretty damned lucky saying that. Maybe it all starts with Bev, my mom's sister. She reflects the voice and giddy laughter of my own mom, but comes without the loaded implications of parenthood. And she keeps it so real.

First order of business = getting there. I tromp through SF's fat and warm spring rain drops until I'm waiting beaneath a bus shelter in China town. Two Missouri military dudes enjoying their first day off in a while, share the dry space with me. They are eating up and spitting out their surroundings. They do not seem so different from more distant family members. I grow impatient with the never-coming-bus and call my cousin; he picks me up from the corner moments later, after I've purchased $1.35 BARGAIN soymilk from the corner store. Fuck shopping in the Castro!

Blinded by the spittle of cars' tires ahead of us, we zip over the bridge and through the woods, to Concord. I'm surprised we don't crash.

Next step = I butter my uncle up with tales of how I've developed a discerning tongue for whiskey. He's grinning. I'm drinking. The politics are beginning.

Five of us sit around the round table edging in to our typical arguments over the state of the world. At one point my cousin describes us as "as republican as you can get, as directly opposite of that, completely anti-government, as anti-bush as possible," and then there's me. I'm beaming the whole time because my "I'll probably vote for Bush" uncle is "amening" every time one of us comments on how foolish the president is or what a sick mistake the war in Iraq is. I'll love him no matter how he votes, but I am relieved as my respect for him renews.

In the middle of our conversations my aunt asks me what it feels like to be barred from the right to marriage, meanwhile all of my college and highschool buddies prep for their own weddings. I'm surprised at how easily she and I get in to it, here, in front of the rest of the family. We don't even skipping a beat as her questions entitle me to take up all the room I need. For the first time I don't distrust it - my family, my words, my space - and for the first time I notice that nobody at the table is grimacing. I've shut this conversation down before. I wonder if they've always been this open or if they dare not step out of line in front of the matriarch. Either way, I melt in to the ease of the moment.

Soon we're gossiping about my brother and his g.f.

Then on to arguing the virtues of alternative media and the prevelance of state guided propaganda machines.