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lederhosenI've mentioned Wafflers occasionally. It's an after-dinner speaking group that Rey and I belong to; we used to go every month while we lived in Sydney, now we only make it there a few times a year, usually when one of us is speaking. The chair sets a topic, and four or five people are selected to make what they like of it.
The other Wafflers are nice people, but I sometimes feel a bit out of place - most of them are about the same age as Rey's parents, and there's quite a conservative streak to it. I met Barry O'Farrell there once, as a guest of another member. There's also a "no sex, religion, or politics" rule; just about everyone bends that a little (and some go stampeding through it) but I try to respect people's sensibilities.
So I was a little bit nervous delivering this speech on the club's 21st birthday. (Not verbatim; I don't script down to the word, I just develop an outline and a few set-pieces, and ad-lib the rest. Also, verbatim would have a lot of "um"s. But it went something like this.)
Topic: "You Ain't Heard Nothing Yet."
*****
Mr. Chairman, Wafflers, guests. I'd like to start by quoting Peter Cook from a film in which he plays a part credited only as "The Impressive Clergyman".
Mawwidge. Mawwidge is what bwings us togethaa, today.
Gillian and I had a friend read that speech at our wedding (although we couldn't get her to do the voice.) A couple of things have had me thinking about marriage lately - we went out for a lovely Valentine's Day dinner this week, and we're coming up for our tenth anniversary. So what do I think of when I think of marriage?
I remember Gillian supporting me when my mother was dying. That's a big thing. But there are so many smaller things that matter too. Travelling the world together. Staying at home playing board games. Those times when one of us is set on doing something and the other one says "are you sure that's a good idea?" Supporting one another when one of us was out of work.
But I don't think Peter Cook's speech is quite right. I'm not going to shock anybody if I say that you don't need to be married for any of those things. Marriage isn't what brings us together, it's one of the ways we acknowledge and recognise that partnership. And I want to talk about that acknowledgement.
[At this point I stopped talking for quite a while - for about as long as I could stand the pressure of standing there silent in front of sixty people.]
Silence is uncomfortable, isn't it? Uncomfortable even for you to listen to, and REALLY uncomfortable for me. I think sometimes the best way to appreciate how much something matters is to try doing without.
Some of you would know the story of Beatrix Potter as a young lady - there was a film 'Miss Potter' that came out a few years back, and there's a terribly sad episode there. She fell in love with her publisher, Norman Warne, and they got engaged. Her parents weren't keen on the engagement, so they convinced her to keep it a secret for a while, so that everybody could avoid embarrassment if she was to change her mind.
This seemed okay, until she went on holiday for a few weeks with her family. While she was away, Norman Warne was taken ill quite suddenly and died, and before she came back they'd buried him. Nobody knew about the engagement, so nobody understood why she was taking this so badly.* I think that must have been an utterly horrible experience for her.
That's a big thing. But there are so many little things, too. These acts of recognition are so commonplace, so pervasive, that it's easy to lose track of how important they are. But imagine what it would be like if I lived in a world where I couldn't give Gillian that recognition. Imagine if our relationship was considered something embarrassing or offensive, something that we couldn't disclose.
Well, I wouldn't be wearing this ring, for a start. [I took off my wedding ring and set it on the table.]
I wouldn't be coming here very often. I suppose Gillian could have introduced me to you all as her "housemate", or her "friend", as long as I only came occasionally.
I wouldn't have my hand on Gillian's shoulder while I talk to you. [Remove hand, edge away from her a little.]
If you were to ask me if I'd done anything for Valentine's Day, I'd have to dodge the question. "Um... not much."
And so on. Try doing it yourself for a few days, living as if that partnership was something you had to keep from other people, and see just how uncomfortable it feels to keep that silence.
Imagine living a whole life like that. I think that would be pretty corrosive for the relationship involved, continually pretending to the world that it wasn't anything important. Kurt Vonnegut wrote: "In the end, we are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be."
All that might seem a little bit absurd. Nobody minds that I acknowledge my partnership with Gillian. I have the good fortune that nobody challenges my right to wear this. [I put the ring back on.]
But there are many, many people who are still living like that. I have many friends who live in that world. I think every person in this room would know somebody in that situation, a friend or a workmate or a family member.
So let's spare a thought for the ones who ain't said nothing yet.
*****
I was REALLY nervous giving that one. But I've never had as many positive comments from the audience as I got for that speech. (Even if one of them managed to miss the not-very-subtly-concealed point, and thought I was talking about something that only happened in Other Countries.) I even got a couple of "about time somebody said something" comments.
I would still have given that speech if I'd known people were going to hate it, but I'm much happier that they liked it.
*Not quite true. His sister knew, but couldn't tell her brothers, and a 10-minute speech is a really awful medium for precision.
The other Wafflers are nice people, but I sometimes feel a bit out of place - most of them are about the same age as Rey's parents, and there's quite a conservative streak to it. I met Barry O'Farrell there once, as a guest of another member. There's also a "no sex, religion, or politics" rule; just about everyone bends that a little (and some go stampeding through it) but I try to respect people's sensibilities.
So I was a little bit nervous delivering this speech on the club's 21st birthday. (Not verbatim; I don't script down to the word, I just develop an outline and a few set-pieces, and ad-lib the rest. Also, verbatim would have a lot of "um"s. But it went something like this.)
Topic: "You Ain't Heard Nothing Yet."
*****
Mr. Chairman, Wafflers, guests. I'd like to start by quoting Peter Cook from a film in which he plays a part credited only as "The Impressive Clergyman".
Mawwidge. Mawwidge is what bwings us togethaa, today.
Gillian and I had a friend read that speech at our wedding (although we couldn't get her to do the voice.) A couple of things have had me thinking about marriage lately - we went out for a lovely Valentine's Day dinner this week, and we're coming up for our tenth anniversary. So what do I think of when I think of marriage?
I remember Gillian supporting me when my mother was dying. That's a big thing. But there are so many smaller things that matter too. Travelling the world together. Staying at home playing board games. Those times when one of us is set on doing something and the other one says "are you sure that's a good idea?" Supporting one another when one of us was out of work.
But I don't think Peter Cook's speech is quite right. I'm not going to shock anybody if I say that you don't need to be married for any of those things. Marriage isn't what brings us together, it's one of the ways we acknowledge and recognise that partnership. And I want to talk about that acknowledgement.
[At this point I stopped talking for quite a while - for about as long as I could stand the pressure of standing there silent in front of sixty people.]
Silence is uncomfortable, isn't it? Uncomfortable even for you to listen to, and REALLY uncomfortable for me. I think sometimes the best way to appreciate how much something matters is to try doing without.
Some of you would know the story of Beatrix Potter as a young lady - there was a film 'Miss Potter' that came out a few years back, and there's a terribly sad episode there. She fell in love with her publisher, Norman Warne, and they got engaged. Her parents weren't keen on the engagement, so they convinced her to keep it a secret for a while, so that everybody could avoid embarrassment if she was to change her mind.
This seemed okay, until she went on holiday for a few weeks with her family. While she was away, Norman Warne was taken ill quite suddenly and died, and before she came back they'd buried him. Nobody knew about the engagement, so nobody understood why she was taking this so badly.* I think that must have been an utterly horrible experience for her.
That's a big thing. But there are so many little things, too. These acts of recognition are so commonplace, so pervasive, that it's easy to lose track of how important they are. But imagine what it would be like if I lived in a world where I couldn't give Gillian that recognition. Imagine if our relationship was considered something embarrassing or offensive, something that we couldn't disclose.
Well, I wouldn't be wearing this ring, for a start. [I took off my wedding ring and set it on the table.]
I wouldn't be coming here very often. I suppose Gillian could have introduced me to you all as her "housemate", or her "friend", as long as I only came occasionally.
I wouldn't have my hand on Gillian's shoulder while I talk to you. [Remove hand, edge away from her a little.]
If you were to ask me if I'd done anything for Valentine's Day, I'd have to dodge the question. "Um... not much."
And so on. Try doing it yourself for a few days, living as if that partnership was something you had to keep from other people, and see just how uncomfortable it feels to keep that silence.
Imagine living a whole life like that. I think that would be pretty corrosive for the relationship involved, continually pretending to the world that it wasn't anything important. Kurt Vonnegut wrote: "In the end, we are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be."
All that might seem a little bit absurd. Nobody minds that I acknowledge my partnership with Gillian. I have the good fortune that nobody challenges my right to wear this. [I put the ring back on.]
But there are many, many people who are still living like that. I have many friends who live in that world. I think every person in this room would know somebody in that situation, a friend or a workmate or a family member.
So let's spare a thought for the ones who ain't said nothing yet.
*****
I was REALLY nervous giving that one. But I've never had as many positive comments from the audience as I got for that speech. (Even if one of them managed to miss the not-very-subtly-concealed point, and thought I was talking about something that only happened in Other Countries.) I even got a couple of "about time somebody said something" comments.
I would still have given that speech if I'd known people were going to hate it, but I'm much happier that they liked it.
*Not quite true. His sister knew, but couldn't tell her brothers, and a 10-minute speech is a really awful medium for precision.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-22 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-23 04:11 am (UTC)I was once in a similar situation like Beatrix Potter, and I still feel that pain very sharply at times.
One of my best friends moved to Japan and fell in love with a Japanese man. Even getting an apartment together was difficult for them, as they were both men. (In Japan you have to be married to live together. At least landlords demand that you're in a romantic, heterosexual relationship. When The Beau and I moved together we were still unmarried but had to tell them that we were engaged.)
Finally my friend's visa ran out and he had to return to Europe. It was very sad, because I realised how easy it was for me in comparison to him. I often think, that when I kiss my husband in public or hold his hand or tell people that we're married how my friend can't do any of that in Japan.
I know–assume–things are a little easier in Australia, but there is still a long way to go.