Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.
Old King Don was a grumpy old soul,
and a grumpy old soul was he;
he called for his pens, and he called for his friends,
and he mowed down democracy.
Heh, heh. Sometimes I have to entertain myself and cross my fingers somebody else thinks I’m as funny as I fancy I am.
Since 1709, the Brits have had a nursery rhyme about the fictional Old King Cole. Starting this week in 2025, the Americans across the Pond from the Brits have a chief executive who fancies himself to be a King with the absolute authority to demolish democratic rule in these United States.
Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, Elon and Don – we ain’t picking up what you’re putting down. The next time we vote for a King, your names will be deleted by the thousands of people affected by your doge department layoffs.
“It’s well-documented that transgender people, especially transgender women of color, were leaders at Stonewall and in the movement for LGBTQ+ equality. Removing the T from a government website certainly doesn’t change that.
I’m in my 40s, and the Stonewall Inn was designated as a National Monument less than a decade ago. For most of my life as a transgender man, the government has not marked our history or celebrated our achievements. LGBTQ+ people were fighting for justice long before Stonewall, and we’ll keep fighting long after.
The government does not determine our value or worth. LGBTQ+ people know who we are, and no presidential administration can take that away.” – Jace Woodrum, Executive Director of ACLU of South Carolina
On Thursday, February 13th., the National Parks Administration removed all references to transgender persons from the Stonewall Inn National Monument website in response to an executive order signed by President Trump on his first day in office, an EO designed to be anti-transgender across the entire federal government in its scope. ABC News reported the following saga of what I have dubbed “T-Gate.”
What used to be listed as LGBTQ+, has been changed to LGB.
“Before the 1960s, almost everything about living openly as a lesbian, gay, bisexual (LGB) person was illegal. The Stonewall Uprising on June 28, 1969, is a milestone in the quest for LGB civil rights and provided momentum for a movement,” the website now says.
The Stonewall Inn in New York City’s Greenwich Village became a national monument in 2016 under former President Barack Obama, creating the country’s first national park site dedicated to LGBTQ+ history.
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Full disclosure I had lived in Seattle, Washington, for a year in that summer of 1969. I was twenty-three years old, single with no prospects, no lesbian dating sites, singing in a Southern Baptist church choir with typical homophobic rhetoric coming from the pulpit. But I still loved the music and made a major life decision to return the 3,000 miles to my native Texas to enroll in the Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth in the fall of 1969. God does work in mysterious ways, I am here to testify. My first long term lesbian relationship began in the seminary with another woman who shared more than our love of music. Twenty years later I learned about the uprising at the Stonewall Inn and understood my debt to the brave transgender women who risked their lives to spark a movement for equality.
What if, I wonder, the new president decides to ban all historical sites that refer in any way to a “T.” Hmm. For example, think about the Old South Meeting House in Boston, Massachusetts, the site of the Tea Party in 1773 which sparked the first revolution against oppression in America. Colonists disguised as Indigenous Americans boarded three ships in the harbor and dumped 342 chests of tea into the river. Should we take the “Tea Party” off the historical sites since the colonists were really a rowdy group of immigrants who thought they shouldn’t be ruled by a King?
From gospel singers Ethel Waters and Mahalia Jackson to Motown’s Diana Ross and the Supremes of the 20th. century to Jennifer Hudson and Beyonce who light up the 21st. century with their musical magic, I have always loved to hear talented Black artists sing. I have one particular favorite from both centuries, and her name is Tina Turner. I celebrate her memory for her contributions to Black history in this special month.
Every time I think of you I always catch my breath And I’m still standing here, and you’re miles away And I’m wondering why you left And there’s a storm that’s raging Through my frozen heart tonight I hear your name in certain circles And it always makes me smile I spend my time thinking about you And it’s almost driving me wild And there’s a heart that’s breaking
Down this long distance line tonight I ain’t missing you at all Since you’ve been gone away I ain’t missing you
No matter what I might say There’s a message in the wire And I’m sending you the signal tonight You don’t know how desperate I’ve become And it looks like I’m losing this fight In your world I have no meaning Though I’m tryin’ hard to understand And it’s my heart that’s breaking
Down this long distance line tonight I ain’t missing you at all Since you’ve been gone away I ain’t missing you
No matter what my friends say And there’s a message that I’m sending out Via telegraph to your soul And if I can’t bridge this distance
Stop this heartbreak overload I ain’t missing you at all Since you’ve been gone away I ain’t missing you No matter what my friends say I ain’t missing you, I ain’t missing you
I can’t lie to myself And there’s a storm that’s raging Through my frozen heart tonight I ain’t missing you at all Every time I think of you I always catch my breath
These lyrics written in 1984 by John Waite became a #1 hit on Billboard’s Album Rock Tracks, then covered by other artists through the years until it reached Tina Turner’s Wildest Dreams album and tour in 1996 where it found a home in the hearts of millions of Turner’s fans – including mine.
From the Spring Hills Baptist Church choir in Nutbush, Tennessee as a child of the late 1940s to concert halls around the globe that set ticketed attendance records including her largest venue with more than 180,000 fans in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in 1988 Turner entertained and amazed millions of people for nearly six decades with her raspy voice, high energy, sexy self. Her ability to overcome, to survive and thrive in a man’s music world were an inspiration to everyone that knew her story.
Thank goodness for YouTube videos of Tina Turner who has often been referred to as the Queen of Rock and Roll – I watched my favorite, the Amsterdam concert, through tears when I heard she had left the building permanently two years ago in 2023.
Every time I think of you, I always catch my breath…sometimes it’s hard to let go, but it’s okay to still miss you.
Congressman John Lewis, civil rights activist and politician, passed away on July 17, 2020, after a brief battle with Stage IV pancreatic cancer. He was eighty years old. The next day then United States Senator Kamala Harris (D-CA) issued the following statement:
Congressman John Lewis was an American hero—a giant, whose shoulders upon many of us stand. Throughout his life, he showed unending courage, generosity, and love for our country.
As the son of sharecroppers in Alabama, John Lewis’ courage and vision placed him at the forefront of the civil rights movement. As the youngest speaker at the 1963 March on Washington, John Lewis knew the importance of bringing people together for an America that lives up to its ideals of liberty and equality for all.
It was an honor to once again join Congressman Lewis this year in Selma, Alabama in March for what would be his final walk across the Edmund Pettus Bridge, where just 55 years ago, Lewis was among those beaten by state troopers as they bravely marched from Selma to Montgomery for the right to vote. I was moved by his words: ‘On this bridge, some of us gave a little blood to help redeem the soul of America. Our country is a better country. We are a better people, but we have still a distance to travel to go before we get there.’
We are grateful that John Lewis never lost sight of how great our country can be. He carried the baton of progress and justice to the very end. It now falls on us to pick it up and march on. We must never give up, never give in, and keep the faith.
I will always cherish the quiet conversations we shared together when he inspired me to fight for the ideals of our beloved country. My prayers are with John Lewis’ family, loved ones, and the nation as we grieve this tremendous loss.
For me, Black History Month would be incomplete without remembering the courage of John Lewis in the Civil Rights Movement on Bloody Sunday at the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama. I have stood on that bridge, heard the voices of the oppressors and the oppressed as they sang from the pages of a distorted hymnal written in blood through the centuries.
Last night Pretty and I were watching a new comedy on Netflix when she suddenly sat up and said, tomorrow is the 9th. of February, our 24th. anniversary. This was huge because for twenty-three years Pretty had problems remembering the date. Bravo!
I usually began the reminder process in January every year with a conversation that followed along these lines. Pretty, you know we have an anniversary coming up in February. Oh yes, she would say. What day is it then? I asked. Time passed as the wheels turned. I could see them turning. Is it the 12th.? she finally guessed. No, I replied with outright disgust. It’s the 9th. Pretty said oh she knew it was either the 9th. or the 12th. but thought she always got it wrong so she went with the one she didn’t really think was right. Didn’t I say I saw the wheels turning? For twenty-three anniversaries, Pretty has never remembered the right date. I always remember because I have it written on my calendar, and I don’t consider that cheating. I consider it brilliant. (Was that a calendar I saw in Pretty’s lap last night? Hmm.)
Return with me to those thrilling days of yesteryear to meet Pretty who magically changed from being a close friend and confidante (before the spontaneous trip to Cancun pictured above in February, 2001) to a woman who was hotter than the salsa we had with dinner at La Destileria the first night we were there. And trust me, that salsa was hot.
Pretty was “out” in a conservative state in a tumultuous era. She was ahead of her time with her Bluestocking Bookstore in the Vista in Columbia before the Vista became cool. Her business closed after three years, but her contribution to the LGBTQ community was recognized and appreciated. She served on the original board of directors for the SC Gay and Lesbian Business Guild formed in 1993 and was the second president of that organization. Her passion for equality was the catalyst for an activist’s life, a passion she and I shared as friends over the decade that was the 1990s.
At the turn of the century, change was in the air. It was like everyone suddenly realized time was passing faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive and if Superman and Wonder Woman were unlikely to intervene in the chaos and/or uninspiring sameness of our lives, we needed to make radical changes ourselves.
Both Pretty and I were in long term lesbian relationships that experienced seismic shifts as the first year of the new century came to a close. Our partners began looking for love in other places. Pretty had the additional drama associated with making a home for a fifteen year old son who she adored, an athletically gifted teenager who was the quarterback of his high school football team and the starting pitcher for their baseball team. She mixed her real estate appointments in her new career as a realtor for The Hubbard Group with her tennis league schedules and her son’s games.
The trip to Cancun was the launching pad for the most adventurous ride of my life. I had no way of knowing then that the gorgeous intelligent intellectually inquisitive woman with the wonderful sense of humor who grew up in New Prospect, South Carolina would marry the woman from deep in the heart of Richards, Texas and that we would be together for the next twenty-four years sharing a life unimaginable to me as a child. Yet, here we are – still laughing at each other’s jokes, still loving, still standing. And yes, still eating Mexican food as often as our older appetites allow; but now with the additional delight of sharing fajitas and quesadillas with our growing family that makes our love richer, more joyful, more playful.
How do I love thee, Pretty? Let me count the ways, and let me begin with the spicy salsa you have always brought to our family life together for two decades plus now. On that first trip to Cancun, we walked along the beach in the moonlight and I said I would give anything to celebrate our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary together in 2026. Unbelievable. Inconceivable. That seemed like such a long, long time away then, especially since I was fifty-five years old and you were fourteen years younger. We’re almost there, but the years have passed faster than a speeding bullet, our love more powerful than a locomotive.
Happy 24th. Anniversary, Pretty. Let the good times roll.
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granddaughters Ella and Molly at Mexican restaurant
I'll Call It Like I See It 
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