Common Sense	Common Sense Archive

There's a well-known person in my town, a fellow in the media, a writer and a talking head, who nearly died of the plague a few years back. An intervention by friends got him proper medical care and he survived. He had subsequently come down with another malady and the press has detailed his medical stations-of-the-cross with avidity. He's a gay man, comes from a conservative religious background. Recently in conversation with a friend, we talked about people we don't like, and this individual's name came up, and both of us agreed that this individual probably has had a net minus effect on social-justice issues for our community, but neither of us had any emotional investment in his welfare. I noted that this individual's lifeline seemed such a horrible waste-- a fabulous expensive education, much opportunity to do good, and all this person did was work to advance his pathetic career. My friend and I didn't wish him ill-- those names came up later-- but it looked like a beta release of a failure.

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Recently, another friend informed me that he is terminally ill with pancreatic cancer, and it was devastating news. This man has done terrific work in several communities in his 70 years and made considerable contributions, and I am very emotionally invested in my relationship with him. We all die, of course, some earlier than others. It is the living that counts and what a person contributes-- and believe me, you can tell the doers from the incubi. But I had to wonder: why does one get emotionally committed to persons and events? Why am I more emotionally committed to some friends over others? Why am I emotionally committed to persons I have never met? My favorite cousin thought the world ended when Princess Diana was killed in a car crash; she had never met the late Princess.

What is there to care about? How does one allocate one's emotional energy? I find the sudden national attention to the issue of "gay marriage" all too typical of how the press machine works. Do I think same-sex couples should be able to go down to the town clerk and get a license? Yes, I do. But I find myself distanced from the great moral drama the current conversation has given us. It is, for me, plainly and simply, an equity issue. If this group is offered these protections and benefits, so should others. Ours not being a rational culture, the religious screamers and the crazies get "equal time"-- in many cases, as the tabloid screens-and-pages really love the freakos, top-billing-- and I never expect anything but the worst from the mudslinging. I used to love being out in the streets, at rallies for abortion rights, at all the gay/lesbian events. I've never been big on the pro-pot rallies, though I think I did attend some on the Boston Common back in the late 1960s in support of getting rid of the stupid drug laws, which are much worse now. But I am much more ambivalent about the drug culture now than then, with so many people I know having been taken to the limit with the curse. Addictions ain't pretty. I smoke cigarettes; I know.

I suppose it's in the natural course of events that as one gets older, the passions wane-- except for the obsessed, among whom we count the religious. Why did William Jennings Bryan (1860-1925, meaning he died at age of 65, the year he could have collected Social Security, which didn't yet exist) do what he did at the Scopes trial? It killed him-- maybe even before he learned the verdict! What was the purpose? Yes, he won, but he died as the result of the stress in this effort. What drove his enthusiasm? Why did he care? It was a losing battle. At least until now. I think some of our Ayatollahs are busy putting the Creationist creed back into what's left of our public school system. Four hundred years developing a scientific method and, in the enthusiasm of faith-based science, thanks a lot and out with the garbage. Where is the outrage?

The crazy right-wingers are, as a result of their own pathology, always more highly energized than the community of progressives. Why is that? Nut-cakes, for some reason, always have more energy than those comfortable in their skins. It's something I've never really been able to fathom; I make a point of avoiding the crazies. Gore Vidal once said that one in five Americans is seriously mentally ill. I do not know from what data he drew his conclusion-- perhaps a busy experience in New York in his younger days.

What gets me to cha-cha-cha? Not much. Despite the current phobia against carbs, I still like the pasta and pizza slices. I can't stand 99% of what is broadcast on the television. The struggle against diseases, ignorance, and in favor of good education and housing and public safety seem to me high goals. Was I ever a (an?) utopian? Well, if I once was, good for me, but I have no trace memory of such activity. I have done many other things along the way, and being a sharp, I hope, and sly critic of Way We Are has, I hope, been of some utility. I have no way to judge. Things get better and worse at the same time; a phenomenon that surprises me, despite my training in the philosophers for whom the dialectic-- theirs-- was central. The one here is different.

I want to be excited. Enthusiastic. I think of that line in Boys in the Band: "Give me lithium or give me meth," not something I would sell these days, but an update of which I think wholly appropriate to give me a lift and get my ass back in gear, and finish my part of the dance. Cha-Cha-Cha.

Author Profile:  Mitzel
	Mitzel was a founding member of the Fag Rag collective, and has been a Guide columnist since 1986. He manages Calamus Books near Boston's South Station.
	Email:	mitzel@calamusbooks.com
	Website:	calamusbooks.com