Out across the Bay, through the eastern shore, up and over several mountain passes and into the fruitful Central Valley I drove today with my 18-year-old son. We finally reached our destination, meeting point really, at what has to be one of the more obscure Starbucks outlets in the little farming town of Escalon.
The farmers along this route have their summer stands, selling nectarines, peaches, onions, lavender, apricots, and tomatoes at this season of the year. A train rumbled past headed from south to north. The strong breezes waved through a corn field -- neck high even before July. The sky was blue and cloudless.
As we sat in the coffee shop, him with his bagel and frappuccino (having thrown away the whipped cream) and me with my salad, we talked. He knows I have been on-call at KQED for days now as we await the Supreme Court's decisions on Prop 8 and Doma. He is extremely sensitive to the civil rights aspects of these cases.
"How can anyone justify trying to keep people who obviously love each other apart?" he asked me.
As I looked at my first-team all-city athlete, muscular, tattooed, with a handsomeness that had the few young women in the place looking at him (he was oblivious), I felt filled with admiration for his values, his compassion, his empathy for other people.
He is himself in his first serious relationship, with a lovely young Latina woman.
Soon, his Mom showed up and they headed off, him at the wheel to Camp Mather, nestled in the shadow of the great Yosemite Valley.
I headed back here, to the cooler coast, also wondering what the highest court in the land will decide. It looks now we will find out next Monday or Thursday. As I am on-call both days at KQED, I will probably be in the thick of the news coverage when these decisions come down.
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