I started the evening last night with the above photo --  I was lying on my bed with The Soph, and we had had a fine day. Soon afterward, Mirtha the Saint came to take care of Sophie, and I got dressed for a dinner out with friends. I drank a Manhattan at my friends' house, a delicious concoction of vermouth and whiskey and a maraschino cherry from Italy that was threaded onto a silver toothpick. I've never had a Manhattan, but I drank it to the very last drop. I sat outside in the cool, Los Angeles evening air, laughing and talking with old friends and new --  four men, actually -- two couples, one being two dads of kids my boys go to school with and the other two older men who have been together since 1975 and are now 77 and 80 years old. I tell you their ages because it was significant. We went to an Italian restaurant in West Hollywood to celebrate my friend's birthday, I ate burrata and tomatoes and then linguine with clams. We drank champagne first and then red wine. We talked for hours and laughed uproariously. One man nudged me, said, He's a good looking old man, isn't he? and nodded at his partner across the table. I was told that my eyes sparkle, and I'm sure they did. I felt completely enamored by these men's love for one another and for the life they live. In two days they are going to be married and then they will go on a cruise to Alaska. I asked whether I could go with them, and I am certain that they'd let me if I were so inclined. When dinner was over, we climbed back into one car, and I sat in the middle of the back seat, between my dear friend and the new friend. We talked and laughed some more. We went back inside my friends' house and drank a perfect glass of port. It tasted like berries warmed up and we talked and laughed some more. After a while one of the older man declared that he was fading, and I realized that I was too, so we said good-bye and walked to our cars. I called out Happy Wedding! as they drove away and nearly skipped to my car. How grand life is! I thought, How lucky we are to live in such a world where two men born in the 1930's can get married and go on a cruise to Alaska. I turned on the radio and felt another frisson of perfection as Mick Jagger sang you can't always get what you want, but you get what you need. I sang all the way home.

My children were up when I turned the key in the lock. Henry said, I hate this country. Zimmerman got off. He killed that boy with a gun, and those people thought it was all right. Henry is so tall, so narrow still, a man in shape only, unfinished, captive. Oliver stood behind him, a nervous smile on his face. I close my eyes, now, and see them both -- my boys -- inside the doorway, their faces blurred, one lined and angry, the other vaguer, uncertain, Mick Jagger's howl still ringing in my ears. I hate this country, he said again, it's stupid.

What does one say to that?

Genes and Tolerance

United States Army Recruiting Station, Los Angeles

When I pulled into the parking lot of Sophie's high school this morning, it was hard not to notice the array of camouflaged tents, trucks and soldiers spread out over the huge parking lot. It's gray in Los Angeles this morning, and when you don't have the patriotic gene , the sight of army recruiters at a city high school doesn't make you feel a surge of pride in your country. Call me unpatriotic, but I don't like teenagers to be recruited to fight for their country in the parking lots of their high schools. I don't care if they're promised an education, glory or one hundred vestal virgins in heaven. You're not going to see this scene a few miles away in the parking lot of a prestigious private school, peopled with the tender and the privileged. And no, I don't have an answer for how we're supposed to find kids to fight wars in countries like Iran and Afghanistan. I don't have an alternative, so I'll just sit in my car and steam a bit while I wait for Sophie's aide to come and get her.

The other day, Kim of Art in Red Wagons left a great comment after I posted about my struggles with moderation in politics.  She spoke of tolerance and directed me to a very interesting and eye-opening statement of tolerance as dictated by UNESCO, in 1995. Here's an excerpt that struck me, in particular:

Article 1 - Meaning of tolerance

1.1 Tolerance is respect, acceptance and appreciation of the rich diversity of our world's cultures, our forms of expression and ways of being human. It is fostered by knowledge, openness, communication and freedom of thought, conscience and belief. Tolerance is harmony in difference. It is not only a moral duty, it is also a political and legal requirement. Tolerance, the virtue that makes peace possible, contributes to the replacement of the culture of war by a culture of peace.

1.2 Tolerance is not concession, condescension or indulgence. Tolerance is, above all, an active attitude prompted by recognition of the universal human rights and fundamental freedoms of others. In no circumstance can it be used to justify infringements of these fundamental values. Tolerance is to be exercised by individuals, groups and States.

1.3 Tolerance is the responsibility that upholds human rights, pluralism (including cultural pluralism), democracy and the rule of law. It involves the rejection of dogmatism and absolutism and affirms the standards set out in international human rights instruments.

1.4 Consistent with respect for human rights, the practice of tolerance does not mean toleration of social injustice or the abandonment or weakening of one's convictions. It means that one is free to adhere to one's own convictions and accepts that others adhere to theirs. It means accepting the fact that human beings, naturally diverse in their appearance, situation, speech, behaviour and values, have the right to live in peace and to be as they are. It also means that one's views are not to be imposed on others.

You can read the whole thing here.

Wouldn't it be great if the thousands of kids at our high school could learn about that document instead of signing their lives away under bullshit pretext to fight in countries whose cultures are grossly misunderstood ?