It was 3am. I think. I don't do early morning. Once the sun is out, my system shuts down. The alarm had gone off and I could hear the Sailor getting ready for work. Today was a special day because today was the Presidential Inauguration and the Sailor would get to march in it.
He got his uniform ready, and he felt prepared, as his usual practice routine got a little longer because of the importance of the event. I think I groggily asked him if he was getting ready to meet the other woman and I believe he answered: " She's polished and ready to rumble." He knows this is probably the only topic of conversation that will wake me from my vampiric-like stupor enough to crack a joke or two. You see, the "other woman" is a trumpet. The Sailor plays trumpet for the Navy Band.
The Sailor's trumpet has a name, because being Puerto Rican, I have a tendency to name everything and give it life, especially if they are inanimate objects. HER name is "Lisa2" and she's the one that he spends the most time with out of all his instruments. Put simply, when we were dating, I never had to worry if I didn't hear from him for a couple hours. I knew he was spending time with "Lisa2", practicing an excerpt over and over again, until it sounded absolutely perfect. After all, that is the quest of any musician, perfection of sound and perfection of his craft.
"Lisa2" has been his constant companion for a long time, enough that she's a complete extension of the Sailor. They are fused together, one as much a part of the other. The quote by Duke Ellington: "Music is my mistress and she plays second-fiddle to no one", always pops in my head as I see him practicing because by all accounts, I am the other woman. Oh, it isn't that bad. Grumble, groan. You see, if he's going to be spending time with her, then he better be damn good at what he is doing, because he is sacrificing time with me. Let's face it: she's cold, I am warm, she is shiny in the sunlight, I clean up good...he is coming back to me. Whoa! This has started to sound a bit like Twilight. <Insert evil laugh here>. In all seriousness and severity, I am the Sailor's biggest fan and his worst critic.
During this morning exchange though, unspoken between us, was that today was also Dr. King's special day. You see, if it hadn't been for Dr. King, my husband would not exist and be able to take part of this historic event. His parents, a white American woman of Polish and Slovak ancestry and a Filipino man, would not have met and fallen in love. In the conservative Midwest. Whoa, 'nuff said. Nor would I have been in this country and had our spawn. Gosh, they're cute girls; with a bite, but very cute.
It got me to thinking. How scary is it to think that if things had gone differently for Dr. King, life as we know it wouldn't exist? Pretty damn scary, to be honest, and this is coming from a woman who thinks werewolves are just big puppies. Has it been that long that a single man had a dream? The answer is no. Is hate now replaced by love, as Dr. King preached? Hell no. Are we moving towards that ideal? Maybe. That's the truth, but the fear that we aren't appreciating this holiday as we should, is always just under the surface. I have heard friends argue the validity of this holiday and "can't we all just go on with our lives as we always do?'. Well, no you can't, dummy. Life as we know it wouldn't exist. Duh!
So, I humbly request that if you have children, please teach them to enjoy this holiday and remind them that not so long ago, black people(any people of color, Puerto Ricans included) and white people were not allowed to be in the same places. Not so long ago, celebrating our origins was completely taboo, and being different was not ok, by any means. That in spite of racism, brave couples of different racial backgrounds said: "I love you, no matter what they say and I will marry you, PERIOD". That not so long ago, there was a man, who liked Star Trek, was a vegetarian, and could preach like nobody's business. This man had a dream that we all would love and live together in perfect harmony. He fought for his dream, and gave up his life for it. He did all that so on a day like today, a day a lot of people dub "a day like any other", a biracial trumpet player could march before a black President as part of the US Navy and help celebrate his inauguration.
So, thanks Dr. King for all your hard work, for all your dreaming, and for giving up your life so that others could live theirs freely. In this house, we appreciate you greatly and your work has not been forgotten.
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