"Ain't that somethin'?"

Dinner with Tracy is something my dad likes to fit in at least once during his visits. She nannied for my sister and I while we were young, and catching up with her always provides dad with yet another chance for deep belly laughter and reminiscing. He spends the evening re-telling stories of the old days, and we all hang on every word.

On Tuesday night Tracy and Steve had Danielle, dad and I over for a ham dinner, and we spent hours chatting around the dining room table. We feasted on each others' stories and positive energies as we enjoyed second and third helpings of a delicious meal (there's no dieting with Donald in town). Somehow sexuality made its way into the conversation. From his prominent seat at the head of the table Donald said, "Well my grandfather always told me you can never have any love for a woman that loves other women." After a few uncomfortable moments of silence and awkward glances across the table, dad continued, "But my daughter showed me different, 'cuz I have to love her... Ain't that somethin'?"

It really was "somethin'" to hear my dad declare a reserved acceptance of homosexuality. (Short lived though it was, since he told me this afternoon that I need to "find [myself] a man and straighten up.") I can't count the number of disparaging remarks I grew up hearing my dad spew about "faggots", "sissies" and "dykes". I have guardedly accepted his homophobia as something so deeply ingrained in his 70-year-old island consciousness that, at this point, it is too late to expect much to change.

I've come out at least a dozen times to my dad over the last five years. Three years ago, Donald was at the first "Swizzle In, Swagger Out" birthday party at Vineland. He enjoyed the afternoon of BBQ and dominoes without reserve. As Luke and I took him home in the early evening, dad decided he was going to ask "that lady" to go to the movies with him.

"Which lady?!" I asked, leaning into the front seats of the car.

"The older one," he declared.

"Oh! Well, dad, she has a girlfriend. Actually, she's dating my ex-girlfriend," Luke turned his i-Pod mix down. "Most of those women there today were lesbians."

"Oh, Lord! What's wrong with you girls? You need Jesus, we're going to church in the mornin'," Donald cried out from the front seat. And that was that. I joined him at church, hungover, that Sunday.

He's been staying at Heather and Tawn's house for the last two visits. I've often wondered if he realizes he's living with two happily coupled women- they share one room and one bed. As Ashley pointed out during one of our porch sessions this week, "Donald is sharp... He knows." How hard is that for him to conceive of? Over a half century of blaming the gays for the world's ills must be chipping away as his love for these beautiful women continues to grow. Does he consider himself lucky, as I think he should, for witnessing a love he has always considered not only foreign, but morally wrong? Is he proud of us?

The gift of unconditional understanding is a hard promise to make a day out, but I was enveloped in warmth by my dad's momentary acceptance on Tuesday evening whilst dining with old friends. Parents want the easiest and best possible life for their children. My parents are still coming to terms with the fact that for me, that best possible life involves finding the woman with whom I want to build a future with. That’s my path to happiness. I guess I'll take fleeting parental acceptance where I can.