Eight years ago, my husband, then 6-year old daughter and I celebrated a rash of weddings. Not because we were at a certain age or had particularly large extended families. It was because we live in Massachusetts, which on May 17, 2004 became the first U.S. state (and only the sixth jurisdiction in the entire world) to legalize gay marriage. Several of our friends who were in loving, committed relationships — that just happened to be same-sex — took advantage of it.
We were all thrilled when one couple asked our daughter to be in their wedding party. My mother found a tiny Dior sample dress and sent it up from New York. The wedding would take place in our friends' lovely beachside garden and our daughter was to be a junior usher along with another older girl we know and love. Our friends gave them each a beautiful crystal starfish pendant as a "Thank you." (I'm sorry to report that my daughter still won't let me borrow hers. But, I digress.)
The day was absolutely glorious and it was one of the most beautiful weddings I've ever attended. The best man was actually the ex-wife of one of the grooms (are you following this?). She talked about her ex-husband and his new husband with an appropriate blend of humor and genuine affection. The ceremony incorporated a blend of traditions and the day included much champagne and gourmet chocolate.
On the Monday after the ceremony, my daughter's daycare provider asked her about it. (Of course, it was all we had talked about for days and weeks prior.) "How was the big wedding?" she queried. "Was the bride beautiful?"
My daughter thought for a minute before shrugging it off, "I don't think there was a bride."
A few years later at sleep-away camp, a bunkmate was expressing her disgust with homosexuality. When my daughter disagreed and told her that she had been in a gay wedding herself, the girl was grossed out. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I love them and they love each other."
Let me tell you, no amount of popsicle stick and Elmer's glue crafts could have made this camper's mother prouder!
In the news today, there's a story about a fifth grader who won a prize for his speech supporting marriage equality. But, despite this fact, his school won't let him present it. He has to write a new, less controversial speech if he wants to move to the next level of the contest.
Here's what bothers me about this. The boy is a student of a public school in the state of New York. The state of New York has legalized same-sex marriage. Does the school have the right to override what the state itself has declared? And aren't they trampling on another right in doing so? Hello ... freedom of speech, anyone?
If you'd like to hear from the eloquent young speechwriter himself, you can find his story (and a video of his originally awarded, now censored speech) at The Raw Story. I don't even know this little boy, but I'm very proud of him.
Since straight marriage has been the butt of jokes for years, I think we should give equal time to gay marriage when it comes to humor. My all-time favorite comment on gay marriage was a New Yorker cartoon. A (heterosexual) husband and wife are watching the news on TV. The husband comments:
"Gays and lesbians getting married — haven't they suffered enough?"
We live in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, one of the oldest and most patriotic of these United States. Y'know ... the Freedom Trail, the shot heard 'round the world, the cradle of liberty, etc. etc. etc.
Well, last week, this fine state threatened to take away one of our cherished traditions: the right to bake sales. Holy home-baked brownies, Batman!
Fortunately, the public outcry was intense enough to dissuade Governor Partick. "Nobody is interested in banning bake sales," he assured reporters. "We are interested in student nutrition."
My childhood was full of baked goods — wonderful homemade goodies sent to school for birthdays and holidays and, yes, bake sales. My mother was known for her gorgeous cupcakes (this, by the way, was decades before cupcakes became the trendy over-priced urban phenomenon we know today). For birthdays, multicolored frosting, each with a candle tucked into a holder made of two life savers. Christmas, each cupcake had a small candy cane standing in snowy frosting like a miniature North Pole. And, Easter, little nests sculpted from tinted coconut held tiny jelly bean eggs.
I think I made cupcakes for my own daughter once or twice. But early on in our elementary school years, homemade sweets were banned because of peanut allergies.
My first encounter with an allergy situation was during my daughter's fairy birthday party when she turned four. A friend from daycare came and her mother wouldn't allow her to eat any of the nut-less sandwiches (turkey, bologna and cheese) because they were on platters with the dreaded peanut butter and jelly. I felt terrible. The girls were working up quite an appetite, flitting about the park in their fairy wings and tiaras.
Another year, my daughter had a classmate with an extremely severe nut allergy. A separate nut-free table wouldn't be sufficient protection for this boy, so we were all forbidden to pack anything that had nuts or was made in a plant that processed them. Let me tell you, it is very difficult to find snack foods that are guaranteed free of peanuts. But, whenever I thought about the inconvenience, I quickly stopped myself by thinking about how stressful it must be for the poor boy's mother. The world is a frightening enough place when you have healthy offspring. Imagine what it must be like to walk around worrying that your child will go into anaphylactic shock.
So, when I learned about the proposed ban on bake sales, I assumed it was to protect kids from allergens. In addition to nuts, there are children with sensitivities to dairy, soy and gluten. An eleven-year old friend of my daughter's is already vegan.
It turns out, the focus was not on individual ingredients, per se. The focus was on too much of a good thing. This was meant to help prevent childhood obesity. I, for one, am glad that the state backed down.
Is childhood obesity a growing problem (no pun intended)? Yes. But, is "the big bad" really bake sales? I don't think so. Lack of exercise, too much screen time, 24/7 junk food. A sweet treat to help raise money for the school band is not going to push an otherwise lean child into the abyss of the forever overweight. The whole thing is pretty silly, if you ask me.
We have become so politically correct, so scared to offend anyone, so afraid of potential lawsuits, that we have really turned a mole hill into a mountain. Or, perhaps a better analogy would be a tiny little homemade cupcake into a seven-tiered wedding extravaganza complete with spun sugar swans, white chocolate-dipped almonds and poofs of meringue.
But take it from someone who has been serially dieting since she was fourteen (sometimes successfully and sometimes ... er ... not): demonizing food will not work. Guess what happens if you forbid a young person to eat a particular item? They will crave it all the more. Not only that, they will stuff themselves with it when you aren't looking. Ever heard the phrase "forbidden fruit?"
Here's a compromise then. Don't have a bake sale every day. But, do allow them at reasonable intervals (once a week? every two weeks?). Limit each kid to a couple of items or a specific dollar amount. To be on the safe side, encourage moms (or dads) to label their offerings. Educate people about food allergies and ask them to be considerate. If your child has a very severe allergy, coach him or her about what they can and cannot purchase. Or, send a special — safe — treat that they can enjoy while their friends buy the contraband.
The ideal is moderation. Offer more opportunities to exercise. Serve healthy choices at the school cafeteria most of the time with a sweet treat now and then. Those young waistlines might decrease.
And bake sale sales might be better too.
