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The Betty Blog

Now There Is a Lava Lamp Over My Head

September 15, 2007

Now There Is A Lava Lamp Over My Head . . . Or
This Here Is My Thank You Note to Lyon-Martin Health Services
Complete with a PS to Dr. Leon in the Bayou Country

There is a light blue, almost turquoise, lava lamp sitting on the shelf above my computer. It is silent even when it says “B-u-r-p-p-p-p-p-p-p!” as the ooze moves towards the heavens, then slowly, the blob splits, spits, one big piece goes up even more, and the other piece goes down, down, down into the deep pit you cannot see. How did this happen?

Lyon-Martin Health Services said thank you to me last Sunday, and in so doing, they gave me one. One what? One blue lava lamp. I haven’t had one in years. It took a while to decide where to put it.

Now I hear that silent burping sound every time I look up. The colors in the lamp aren’t too far, in shade and tone, from the silent blue streaks and swirls on the desktop of my big iMac screen where all this Betty's List stuff happens.

Last time I had one - I'm talkin' lava lamp here - it was red. Used it as a night light in my red bathroom over in Noe Valley until the lava finally wore out. It would no longer spew or burp. Just sat in a sad red glob at the bottom, and the red got darker and darker, even when the light was on. Yeah, you can imagine what I thought it looked like. Threw it out.

Now, Lava moves again in my world. Somebody, on the day I came home with this one, said, “It’s really phallic, you know . . .” So, I said, “Works for me.” Indeed it does . . . here in our queer neighborhood where gender’s so fluid. Here, where a conversation about the spectrum of gender manifestation intimidates hardly anyone and generally evokes big smiles and much laughter of realization that we all have both and some have more. . . well, sort of.

Here, where I myself move agilely, hour by hour, back and forth between femmy butch jock working this computer to big butchy femme pro out and about in community.

Truth is, I was very moved this past Sunday at the Barbeque when San Francisco Pride’s Lindsey Jones and I were called to the podium to receive a lamp mounted on a wood base, one with an engraved placard saying Lindsey’s name and the other, saying mine and both saying “Let It Shine!”

Lindsey was introduced by the board chair of the San Francisco Pride Celebration Committee, Mikayla Connell, who felt so strongly about her positive experiences as a transgender woman during a ride up Market Street in the annual Pride Parade, she decided to join the board in order to give something back.

Alan of Nordstrom, sounds like a Viking warrior, doesn’t it? Alan of Nordstrom introduced me. He had a lot to say, some of it evoking peals of laughter or smiles and nodding heads. I just smiled back. Much fun was made of my late-night e-mail sending habits, that along with the fact that I am a twenty-one year “Nordstrom shopper.” There is more of this story to be told . . . and yes, I do admit to being a Nordstrom shopper.

And, I am saying thank you here to Lyon-Martin, to my friend Hilary Clark, who is president of the board; and to Laura Kogen, who is vice-president; and to Mary Ann Brown, who chaired the host committee. And to Dawn Harbatkin, MD who is top gun of all things; and to Leslie Ewing, associate ex dir, with whom I have laughed so many times and had to run down the hall and whose Buddha like wisdom has pronounced truth and helped me more than once get through a situation no one could have predicted would be on the path. And to all those folks who came through with the requests to contribute items to the Silent Auction! And to Cathy Blackstone, Bill Wilson and Abby Zimberg, all of whom made it possible for us to have photos documenting the day.

For now, my light blue lava lamp glows and slowly spews, up there next to the printer and down a bit from the smallest of my three TV sets here in the “Betty’s List” media center. B-u-r-r-r-r-r-p! Burp and spew. Burp and spew. Burp and spew. This goes on for hours, into the wee time of night. Thank you, y’all . . . make that all y’all! The plural of "y'all" being "all y'all!"

PS – Here’s a thank you to Dr. Leon . . . (I know you are reading this, Leon, oh yes, you whose name spells Noel backwards) . . . down in bayou country, you who sent a basket of Cajun goodies for the Silent Auction. Yes, your wonderful Katrina Care Basket made it here and Hilary's girlfriend bid on it and we have been promised a Cajun party. So, can you go with me to the Ole Miss v LSU game this year in Oxford? I have your ticket to sit next to me! Oh, Ye, Dr. Leon! Knock, knock! And, when are you coming from Louisiana to the Castro again to have some fun once more with the guys here in my neighborhood?

(Leon and I were sympatico from the start. He was my first boyfriend in Mrs. Beasley's first grade class at Culkin School. He's now a proud graduate of LSU and Tiger fan. I heard he is working out and chasing guys in Lafayette and New Orleans. I have written about him many times and plan to again.)

Related Photo Album I

Photo Album II

(Photo by Cathy Blackstone)

(Photo by Bill Wilson)