Righting Marriage

Framed by Robert Indiana's LOVE and turgid Billy Penn, they chanted, "Repeal 8, Love is great."

by Bruce Schimmel

When my friends Chris and Dave e-mailed me in September that they had just gotten married, having flown from Philly to Los Angeles to beat the Prop 8 vote, I was delighted. But also confused.

Hey, I love marriage — as an abstract, and for me in the flesh. I love our marriage — my spouse (of the female variety) and mine. Like a good glue, marriage can really bond people together.

But marriage isn't for everyone. Most marriages, of course, end in divorce. For many, marriage is like Super Glue that snares you in a game of Mindfuck Twister, from which it's painful and pricey to get unstuck.

So even as my wife and I lifted a glass to our friends' unexpected nuptials, my delight was dogged by doubt.

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My question was, why? Chris Ellison, 39 — an IT whiz — and Dave Ankers, 42 — who runs a music network — have been steadfast partners for almost two decades. Why get married now?

"Because we could," said Chris — just three words, followed by a long pause.

(Listen to the conversation.)

We three sat in their kitchen in Washington West. It was midafternoon on Saturday, and Dave was starving. Silently, Dave smeared cream cheese and lox onto black bread, and saying nothing further, he took a big bite.

"Because we could" had said it all.

Chris and Dave got married, because for the first time they got the right to marry. Until Prop 8 shut things down, only California offered same-sex marriage to out-of-staters. (Read their account at chrisanddave.com.)

That's real marriage, not a civil ceremony. "The distinction is huge," said Dave, enjoying his lox. "Separate is not equal. We wanted the same right to marry. Just like everybody else."

Marriage matters, for reasons both legal and cultural, and Dave offered me a personal example.

Kate and I have been married a bit longer than Chris and Dave have been together. "So tell me," Dave inquired, setting down his sandwich, "do people routinely come up to you and ask if you and Kate are still married?"

Oh. I got it.

A few blocks away, at City Hall, a couple thousand protesters waved hand-drawn signs with similar sentiments: "Was a vote held on your marriage?" queried one. "If gays are given civil rights, everyone will want them," teased another.

Philly's protest paralleled those in some 50 cities on Nov. 16. After the rage of election night, followed by a flurry of finger pointing, I was surprised that this demonstration was downright upbeat.

As protests go, it was the happiest I'd ever seen. With Robert Indiana's iconic sculpture as backdrop, many hoisted signs extolling Love. "The important thing is not the object of Love but Love itself," explained one. "Love is Love," another simply proclaimed.

Basking in unexpected sunshine, couples of every sort held hands and sometimes each other. Despite the snarled traffic, cars honked and their passengers cheered. Gloria Casarez, Michael Nutter's LGBT liaison, declared that the mayor was with them — though Nutter later declined further comment.

Still, even the cops were on board. Protest organizers hadn't asked to march around City Hall. So, to their surprise, police offered to lead them. Passing between the LOVE sculpture and an ever-turgid Billy Penn, people chanted, "Repeal 8, Love is Great." Walt Whitman, the Good Gay Poet, was surely grinning in heaven.

Their initial outrage, heightened by Barack Obama's victory, had given way to a steely optimism that Chris and Dave echoed.

"I never thought they would take this away from us," said Dave, "And I still don't."

In fact, the couple says they're glad for this temporary setback — because focusing on this injustice will accelerate our nation's evolution.

"I never thought that I needed to get married," said Chris. "But now I do, and it's changed my perspective. Marriage is my right."

(bruce@schimmel.com)