Happy Fourth Of July! Get Ready!

Happy Fourth of July, a.k.a. US Independence Day!

Many in our community are still celebrating the Supreme Court's ruling on same-sex marriage.   Still, there's a long road ahead until we achieve equality in all areas of life.  In other words, we're still not close to freely exercising all of the things most people take for granted in the Constitution, specifically the Bill of Rights.

So...enjoy this day.  And prepare for what's coming.

Happy Independence Day!

It's also my birthday.  And, if you've been following this blog, you know that my other "birthday" is coming up.

Enjoy the day!

A Fourth Anniversary on the Fourth

I can't believe that four years--almost--have passed since my surgery!

On this date four years ago, I flew from LaGuardia to Denver International Airports, then to Colorado Springs, where I spent the night.  It's the one and only time I've spent my birthday in transit, I believe. But it was appropriate somehow: On the anniversary of my physical arrival in this world, I was on my way to my birth--or, at least, the birth of the person I have always wanted to be.

The following day, Robin from Dr. Bowers' office picked me up and drove me to Trinidad.  I recall the easy rapport we seemed to have and how calm I felt through my trip and the time up to the very moment of my surgery.  Of course, that calm immediately before the surgery was an effect of the anaesthesiologist's work.  But the time before then had much to do with Robin, other people I met in Trinidad and, of course, Dr. Bowers herself.

On this day four years ago, I was on my way.

Birthdays

The other day I mailed a birthday card to Marilynne's daughter.  She and I underwent our surgeries on the same day last year.  

If that day is our birthday, then I'm only about five hours older than she is.  Hmm...That sounds like the makings of some sort of science fiction story.   If any of you want to take the idea and run with it, be my guest:  I seriously doubt that I'll ever write science fiction.  I just don't think it's in me.


Anyway, in one sense, we were both born that day. If that's the case, how long was our gestation period?  Was it the time we had been living as female?  Our entire lives?


But today is what most people--as well as the laws of just about every jurisdiction in this world--would define as my birthday.  It is the date on which I came, a whole bunch of years ago, from my mother's body into this world.  I probably will always celebrate this date as my birthday, partly out of habit and, well, because it's the biggest national holiday of the country in which I was born and have spent most of my life.  It's a bit like being born on Bastille Day in France or Christmas in any country that celebrates it.  


The only times I wasn't in this country on the Fourth,  I was in France.  Three times I was in Paris; the other time I was in a town called Auch in the southwest.  Unless you've been there or know something about French history, you've probably never heard of it.  I ended up there on my birthday ten years ago in the middle of a bicycle tour I took through the Pyrenees.   It's a lovely place, and if you should go there, you should certainly go to la Cathedrale Sainte-Marie.  It may very well have the best acoustics of any place of worship in the world.  It certainly has one of the best organs and choirs.    The singers were rehearsing that day.  I got into a conversation with a sweet-faced alto-soprano who was about twenty years older than I was.   Even before she talked, I could sense her enthusiasm and passion for that cathedral and for her music.  


When she asked where I came from, I said, "Les Etats-Unis."


"Eh...Votre jour d'independence."


"Oui.  Et mon anniversaire."


Her already bright eyes perked up.  "Voulez-vous une chanson speciale?"  With a smile, I nodded, and she and the choir gave a little impromptu concert for an audience of an American cycling solo in France on his birthday and his country's day of independence.


Whatever my birthday is, I believe I have an interesting heritage.  And I feel honored to share at least something with Marilynne's daughter.