Being in Hello Dolly with Teresa is fun. Theatre is addicting. It gives you a sense of fulfillment, belonging, sociality, fame, and fun. Lots of the new friends we’ve made audition for play after play after play, often with no down time. Were it not for the difficulty of finding babysitters every night, Teresa and I might fall into that trap.

I think this dream was inspired by my wishing to fly as I’ve roamed around the stage of the Scera theater during play practice for Hello Dolly. Theater’s often instill within me a desire to fly, what with their high roofs, fly systems, and so many fun things to play with for flying people. Some day.

A friend of mine once told me: “I have no logical defense whatsoever for my support of Proposition 8. Yet I believe that if our nation were to discard the traditional definition of marriage, it would be a pivotal moment toward the moral disintegration of society.” After years of carefully thought out arguments I’d raised at the dinner table, I finally had to agree with my friend. If fairness, equality, and non-discrimination are the only criteria for determining the best decision as to the legal definition of marriage, I have no argument for my support of Proposition 8.

Yet my beliefs run  deeper than that which can be reduced to terms of political prudence. I could choose to sin before society’s emerging code of ethics and say that gender discrimination is perfectly valid in defining marriage, or I could choose to sin before my conscience in supporting legislation which undermines what I view as the fundamentals of society. As stifling as this inner conflict is, I also think it’s problematic to be on the opposite side of the spectrum, where the issues are so streamlined and well-packaged that one can believe that a phrase such as ”hate is a choice; love is not” actually sums up the issue. Our challenge as human beings is to see the world from our opponents point of view, to avoid the temptation of turning them into straw men. In fact, this is the scientific method.

I’m grateful to my friend James Goldberg for putting tremendous thought, research, and fairness into this issue, which has helped me decide where I actually stand. (See his latest article:  http://goldbergish.blogspot.com/2013/03/toward-marriage-clarity.html.) As an exercise in digesting my thoughts, In the following paragraphs I’ll give my reflections on the points he made:

James points out that there are five important attributes of both traditional marriage and the Western world’s emerging concept of marriage. (He notes that to much of the Eastern world, homosexual marriage would make no sense within societal framework, such as in Sikhism, in which wedding ceremonies don’t only involve a husband and wife but extended family members.) Of course, while most people seem fairly polarized on these issues, there are certainly those who fall between. Here’s my summary:

From my observations, the complex differences between these models have seldom been articulated in the heat of this debate. Rather, it’s been fashionable to over-simply the issues by focusing almost entirely on the attribute of gender. It’s been fashionable to view the debate as the broadening of a definition. But can the model of traditional marriage really be broadened to accept the model of emerging marriage without contradiction? Assuming the answer is no, if the model of emerging marriage were to be officially sanctioned by the government, could it be done without undermining the some 40% of Americans who still hold to traditional marriage?

As James argues, because these models have so little in common, it doesn’t make sense to define them both with a single word. The problem is, the word “marriage” has sentimental weight. It’s romantic and built upon thousands of years of tradition and values. The same can’t be said of the term “civil union”. No one wants to propose with the words “Will you civil me?” But can people wishing to enter into an emerging marriage relationship rightfully group themselves with a history, tradition, and values that don’t correlate?

James’s conclusion is that there needs to be a new word for the model of emerging marriage. He predicts that this won’t happen, because the all-powerful virtues of fairness and equality in America will eventually deem that the “gender discrimination” of marriage must be stopped. He also predicts that the decreasing numbers of those who fervently hold to the model of traditional marriage will have to be the ones to redefine themselves. If all this turns out to be true, life will go on. But I believe it will come with a cost.

Does the definition of a word really make that big of a deal? Could such a small thing really help facilitate the moral disintegration of society, as my first friend stated? Does the government really have any business in defining marriage at all? For me, the answer to all three of these questions is yes. For a believer in traditional marriage, the physical difference between legitimacy and fornication is a piece of paper. Yet to me it’s not just paper but a covenant to which I’ll devote my life. When considering the concept of legislation, the physical difference between order and anarchy can also be viewed as nothing but paper. Yet words and definitions can make all the difference in how we perceive ourselves and interact with others on both individual and societal levels. As a believer that the family is the fundamental unit of society, I can’t imagine how a government could responsibly not recognize marriage as a legal entity, especially over issues of property, children and guardianship.

For example, if Proposition 8 is not upheld, and marriage is defined as a legal union between any two people of any gender with any kind of commitment or values, and if failing to agree with this definition is termed as discrimination, private adoption organizations could be forced to act against their values. This would be a direct violation of the separation of church and state, the government having adopted the religion of moral relativism. In such a condition, if I were to show full “allegiance to the flag”, I would be forced to deny part of my religion: ”Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity” (The Family: A Proclamation to the World).

The United States of America was never meant for such imperialism. In order to protect a very small minority, a 40% minority need not be discriminated against. The fundamental unit of society (For those who don’t believe in Marxism) need not be undermined. Those with no ill feelings for people of alternate lifestyles, who have no intention of anything but loving their families and upholding high standards need not be falsely labeled as haters. At the same time, those wishing to enter into the emerging model of marriage need not be discriminated against. They’re entitled to all the privileges,  benefits, opportunities, and happiness that society can offer without coming at the cost of others. The solution is not to label almost half of the nation as close-minded, old-fashioned, and discriminatory, but to let everyone do as much good as they can in their own spheres. Marriage can continue to exist as marriage. If something new is emerging for people of alternate lifestyles, let there be a new word for it. This issue could be resolved so quickly. We all just need to talk a little more about what’s really at stake and put aside the political rhetoric.

First, as resolution to my previous post about our mouse friend, we successfully caught him again with one of my ingenious traps and relocated him a few miles away at the edge of a mountainside, equipping the little guy with one of Teresa’s warmest socks, which was loaded with food. As soon as I opened my makeshift cage, he dived right into the snow. I hope he survives. Most likely he’ll run across the street and find a way into someone else’s house. That’s fine with me.

This last week has been pretty epic. I told at the Weber Storytelling Festival. For one of the events, I was the featured teller with a full twenty-five minute block. In fact, being preceded by some child storytellers and a lowly “regional” storyteller, I was introduced as the “national” storyteller. While I told Teresa that this made me a bona fide national storyteller, she had some weak argument about it not actually being true. For it to be true, she claimed, this fact would have to be in a program. I argued that emcees are higher authorities than programs, because if there’s an error in a program, an emcee can correct it, but programs don’t correct emcees. What higher authority could there be than the MASTER of ceremony? I am a national storyteller.

Teresa, feeling a need for theatre in her life, auditioned for a local production of “Hello Dolly”, and I, wanting to be a supportive husband, joined her. While both of us totally bombed the dancing auditions (and by bombed, think Hiroshima) she was nevertheless cast as a fairly significant part: Ermengarde, and I was cast as her lover Ambrose. This fulfilled all her girlish fancies. Whatever. While I’d rather be putting on my own plays, it’s probably good for me to now and then gain some real world experience.

The hard part about all this was that the auditions fell right into the precious time Teresa and I had to prepare for a puppet show at a library. So, forced to stay up late and wake up early, we threw together a show on behalf of Dr. Seuss’s birthday, featuring two new mini shows: “The Dog in the Hat” and “Purple Zuchini with Mayonnaise”. Somehow we must have pulled off a successful show, because afterwards, to separate mothers came up to me and asked if we did birthday parties. I turned them both down, saying, in my own special way, “You wish you could have us for your kid’s birthday party. We are so beyond that.”

Lastly, today marks my thirtieth successful revolution around the sun. Concerning the philosophical nature of this momentous moment, nothing hit me whatsoever, which is by no means depressing. I feel perfectly fine about the first thirty years of my life, perfectly fine about where I am, and perfectly fine about where I’m going. I’m happy. Really. And that is a wonderful blessing. I’m so thankful for the Gospel in my life, because of which I’ve never had to wonder who I was or what was my quest. And having everything I do, I can’t imagine how I could NOT be happy.

I really am happy. I smile as I lay down at night. I smile as I wake up in the morning. I sing jovial songs as I commute to and from work. I love every moment with my family and friends. I love to immerse myself in creative projects. I love to eat, to cook, to exercise, to love, to laugh, to be entertained, to entertain others, to play, and even to work. There’s just so much to be happy about. My biggest concern in life has nothing to do with my welfare or the welfare of my family but the welfare of others. Am I charitable enough? Do I give enough service? While I’m pulling my car out of my cushy garage, and the woman across the street is laboriously scraping the ice off her windshield, what can I do to make her life better? In our six years of marriage, Teresa and I have been through a lot already, from relative poverty to relative luxury. I know what it’s like to be cold in the winter, to have a nearly barren refrigerator, to wonder how we’re going to survive the next month. I hate the thought of others having to feel these ways. I hope I’ll always remember to give as liberally as I’ve received.

I guess I do have one philosophical thought about getting old and all, some hypothetical questions I’ve tested on a few family members, from whom I’ve elicited tears and attitudes of depression. If you were to look twenty years into the future and see yourself as everything you hope not to become — financially poor, spiritually deaf, intellectually dull, emotionally unstable, with broken relationships and broken dreams — what would you say to your future self? Similarly, if yourself from twenty years ago could see you now, exactly as your are, with everything you’ve accomplished or haven’t accomplished, what would your younger self have to say? If this last question really bothers you, then you’ll know there’s room for improvement. It’s been said that children are the parents of adults. That’s been so true in my life. I’m constantly haunted by the young Stephen Gashler, who reminds me of my goals and principles. While in some ways I fear that I may have let him down, in many other ways, I think my life has turned out more gloriously than his limited world view could have imagined. I haven’t yet climbed Mount Kilimanjaro or built a theme park, but all in all, I’m okay with being thirty.

While the concert on Thursday wasn’t as well attended as we would have hoped, and while we had more technical difficulties than we would have liked, there were, nonetheless, a handful nerdy couples who stayed till the end, digging and dancing to our grooves and making the night a fun experience. I want to thank Berin Stephens and my brother Brian Gashler for joining in with their amazing saxophone and guitar skills. We were able to give away around seventy albums at LTUE. While, in the wake of the stress of cramming for it all, a few of the tracks make me cringe … hey, we’ve got an album, and that ain’t bad. And with lots of people sharing our music on their Facebook walls, we’ve gotten the motivation to refine, remix, and take our skills to the next level. That is a great blessing.

What fun. Life is good. Great thing lie ahead. Callooh callay!