Just a few hours before September 11 arrived, I flew on American Airlines from San Francisco to Boston. That was the reverse route that some of the hijackers took five years ago this very day.
Seeking to join the line at the American Airlines gate in SF, I asked the man standing slightly to the side whether or not he was in line. Unlike some of those mad-dashing Type A me-first Republicans flying from deal to deal, I'm one of those people, see, who don't barge in.
"No,I'm not in line," the man said. "I'm just waiting for my husband."
Less than a minute later his husband showed up- and joined his loving life partner to board a flight to a state where gay marriage is allowed.
And as this couple and 140 or so more flew across this land of ours, I looked down from 33,000 feet on the small towns of America.
Below the frequent cloud cover, I imagined all those Red state voters, who sincerely believe that the God they prayed to earlier that day (Sunday) would be offended by sanctified unions such as those of the two men I met. The two men very much in love, now 33,000 feet above their heads.
And then, staring down at those same small towns, I wondered about all the divorces-caused by money woes aggravated by the abandonment of empty factories we soared above. Factories emptied by the forces of globalization and greed- no longer able to sustain the families of the loyal workers who toiled there. Abandonment fueling money woes that resulted in divorces of opposite-sex partners who once vowed before that same God, 'til death do us part."
As day transitioned to night, I then thought of the evil men who they believed were commanded by their God, to bring terror on this nation.
And as night fell, and as children slept, I passed the two married gentlemen while on my way to the commode.
They were asleep, too. Hand in hand.
And it was then I- a straight-but-not-narrow male, realized I was looking at love- a love as real as any in a world with not enough love.