Tim Gunn's Guide to Polygamist Style

Let's be serious-- This is what we really need to talk about! The REAL problems with polygamy.

Polygamy - What do you think?

Centennial Youth at a Pro-Polygamy Rally

FLDS Women in Texas

The Brown Family

A while ago my cousin Sarah introduced me to the TLC show ‘Sister Wives’. When I first watched it, it was really out of morbid curiosity; There must be some great catfights and jealousy between wives, and a frowning, domineering, Bible-thumping husband, scads of blonde illiterate children, and possibly a girl married off at 15.

I was kind of taken aback at what I saw. The Browns look like a happy, American ‘Mormon’ family. Their children are neither brainwashed nor uneducated, the wives aren’t dominated by their husband, who, to me, looks like he loves his wives sincerely.

It made me start to wonder about polygamy. The word itself is almost like profanity to my ears, and brings with it mental images of the people I saw in Colorado City a few years ago (I lived at a nearby ranch in AZ), the awful dress code and the self-righteous men who herded the women about, and worst, the women themselves, who looked at the ground when they talked to you, and all had the same, monotone, submissive voices. I realized what I hated so much about polygamy; it was always either forced, or the women were totally ignorant and brainwashed. It was a trap.

So I’ve been doing some homework and here’s my stance (so far; I’m up  for discussion and enlightenment). I don’t agree with plural marriage. I think it’s hurtful. But it’s not my place to tell other adults how they should feel.  Relationships are deeply personal, and it’s on the personal level that the rules of a relationship should be defined. The kind of relationship I want might not work for my sisters or somebody else… but if polygamy is what consenting adults want, I think that choice ought to be theirs. I’m talking about polygamy ala The Brown Family, where everyone is educated, healthy, loved and free to make their own decisions, not FLDS-Warren Jeffs crazy talk.

Also- Brown Family; I might not agree with your lifestyle, but I want to tell you that I admire you. You seem to have a happy family in what has to be a sometimes difficult situation. You ‘sisters’ seem like an unbreakable team. And going public had to be scary. But standing up for what you believe to be right is admirable. You are a credit to yours.

Warren Jeffs and his cronies- I hope you and all other rapists and bigots live through enternity in a hell of your own making.

Readers: What is your opinion on this issue? I really would like to hear some other perspectives.



Still lookin'...

Two of my friends from high school got married last week. That in itself is nothing new. My friends from high school were getting married as soon as we were graduated.  The happy couple we shall name Jacob and Annie, just to protect their privacy. They are both great people and I love them both to pieces. So what is this twinge I feel knowing that they are married? Jealousy? Probably, but not the conventional kind.

In high school Jacob and I had a little fling which was headed for a cutesy little high school romance; He had asked me out when I was a freshman and, being a good little Mormon 15 year old, I said ‘no’ although I really wanted to say ‘YES!’  And three years late when we were both Seniors, I offered him a ride home and we ended up cuddling on his couch. So we got a little cutsey and stuff but he went away to Vegas on some kind of school trip where he met miss Annie. And they got to smooching and lovin’… leaving me feeling  a little miffed, a little cheated,  but I got over it pretty quick.

I guess if you gotta lose a man, it’s best to lose him to ‘the one’.

So am I jealous? Not of Annie, but of the two of them. They found love so quickly, so easily it seems. And here I am, traveling all over the country, thinking to myself, “Oh, he’ll be here,” or “Maybe he’ll be there.” But six years later he still hasn’t turned up.

But I haven’t given up just yet.

Good Mourning

We had a tragedy just a few days ago here at Paradise Ranch. It shook us all pretty bad. As a result the rest of us are left to mourn and regret and cry, but mostly to wonder.

Now what?

Some really religious people act like they aren't as affected, or maybe just not as sad. Maybe they're not. But none of us, really and truly, in the end, know what's going to happen now. She's dead now, she's gone just like that. We all have different theories on what happpens next, but most of us agree; one setting sun here means a rising sun over the horizon. Nightfall here means sunrise there. Now it's left to us the living, to wonder and to mourn. For some of us that means black clothes, for a few it means drinking yourself into a stupor, for others it means prayers, and for some of the cowboys in the Bunkhouse, it means songs from your Sioux ancestors. Mourning is good. Go on, mourn your loss, grieve. Cry if you need to. It's frightening, it's uncertain, and it was a sore loss.

It's Mourning for us; but it's Morning for them.

We'll see you tomorrow.

You Changed My Heart from Black to Gold

I looked at him and for a moment I thought I would. 

His black eyes and his hard face matched his black heart and hard hands, and his half smile took the anger in my heart and matched it like a like the king and queen of clubs.  When I’d take his hand I could feel the power of that black beating heart running like a swollen river over rapids, and it gave voice to my own anger.  I knew his kiss would taste like vodka; sharp and startling and intoxicating. I knew the roughness of his skin without having yet touched it; I knew also he would turn my eyes black, like his. He opened his door and held out his hand, and my eyes started to change.

But then on the wind, I heard it. The wind called my name in the way only music can. The music told me about a world away from this one; I’d forgotten. I turned away from the darkness of his room and faced the moonlight. My heart began to beat silver, then gold. As the music played, the moonlight became sunlight, and I heard your voice. Just you voice, and my heart began to beat gold and shine.

My God, how could I have ever doubted? I’m in love with you! It’s like being in love with a star; loving someone you have never met; but when I meet you, I’ll know you. It will be like the day I realized the wind- I saw that really, it had been there all along. I’ll recognize the color of your eyes; and when I see them my eyes will spill gold light to match the color of in my heart.

I love you I love you, and I will never forget you again. I will keep looking for you the way I know you are looking for me, and the love and light will beat the anger and darkness in the end.

She Looks Like A Fairytale

"What's her name?"
"Who?"
"That redheaded girl, the one who looks like a fairytale."
"Oh her!" a laugh, "You mean Meagan."
I was just around the corner, but I overhead the dialogue. A fairytale!? I look like a fairytale! I have never been so flattered!

I think it's the Wyoming Moutains, to tell you the truth. The open skies and fresh air have made my eyes bluer and my cheeks rosier. Plus the wild romance of just living in this place.

"Can I saddle up your horse for you, Miss Meagan?" asks Nikona, not knowing that he just quoted directly from my childhood fantasy movie, 'The Man from Snowy River'.

And every evening I stand on the green hillside just above French Creek and watch another scene from that movie play out right before my wondering eyes.

Every evening they drive the horses out of the pens and push them up into the North Pasture, where they free roam and graze until the cowboys return come sunrise. The thunder of a hundred and fifty horses as they race past you, the snorting and stamping, the wind that blows my skirt as they rush by... it's exhilarating.

When the thunder of the horses has died, and the dust is settling, I just stay in my place on the hillside, and watch the blue sky darken and turn to purple. Now it's my favorite time of day; twilight.

It's hard to leave my hillside; the song of the evening is playing and it's haunting melody sings to my child's heart. But another melody is playing; the sound of fiddles from the French Creek Saloon, which serves as our Dance Hall. Every night there's a jam, or a swing dance, or the Square Dance we all dress up for, and the laughter of the fiddle and bright lights of the dance hall's windows flirt me away from the solitude of my hillside cinema. 

Do I look like a fairytale? It must be because I live in one.  

4th of July at Paradise Ranch

I haven't got many pictures yet, which is very frustrating. Mary has got loads of pictures, so does Lizz and so does everyone else, but I haven't yet got a charger for my camera. Well, techichally it's mama's camera, but I accidentally took it and I'm sort of waiting for them to mention it's disappearance. ALEX CURRY never gave me my camera back and I am still mad about that.
Paradise Ranch is sure interesting. One of the many rumors that circulates here is that every foreman they've ever had has gone nuts, and several employers as well. Immediately coming to mind are 'Creeper Steve' who left his truck here and honeatly just disappeared into the night, and the unnamed foreman who would get up at 2am and prowl the ranch with his shotgun, certain that someone was lurking in the forest around us. Mind you, I never knew these two characters, but I've heard their legends repeatedly. There is something about that forest that seems to watch you...
This morning dawned a little drizzly, but cleared up pretty quick. I was so grateful for the overcast, because it is so much kinder on my eyes and skin. We had the morning kid's program as usual, but in the afternoon we got the kids to paint the wagon we were going to use in the 'parade'. (The parade consisted of the wagon, three cowboys, and two dogs. Oh yes, and the gator.) We all ended up at the Mule Parlor (a pasture surrounded with a rail fence and containing a firepit and circle) for lunch out of the chuckwagon, and the we celebrated with gunnysack races, three-legged races and an egg toss. After the egg toss Ethan started throwing eggs at Rachel and me, and a fight ensued. I escaped, but Rachel got pretty eggy. GROSS!!
It was a fun, All-American 4th of July!
There is a little girl in my group that is named Kalie. Little Kalie made me start thinking about how grateful I am for America. You see, Kalie is 7 years old and has had 21 surgeries. She's startling at first glance, and so thin she really looks like a waif. Her back, legs and skull are deformed. If little Kalie had been born in Cameroon, she would have almost certainly died. If she was born in Pakistan (had she survived infancy) she would have been hidden away as a shame and an embarassment. In years before America, she would have been called a monster, and drowned. No matter that little Kalie smiles like an angel and laughs with the other children, or that she's smart and compassionate. But in America, our America, where Capitalism has produced the best doctors, and Freedom and Equality have shown us the light, Kalie is a happy little girl with a future and a hope of achieving any dream she wants to pursue.
Thank you God for America. Please protect us, and teach us to do Thy will.