I missed the annual St. James wine-tasting event. Again.

The word “missed,” though, suggests that I had a family emergency or a previous engagement — or that I just forgot to go, as I forgot to go to the inaugural Davis Flea Market.

But there was no emergency, and no previous engagement, though I could make the case that a nice home dinner with a bottle of good local wine (in this case the Simas Family Capay Valley Red) counts as such. And far from forgetting, I thought about it all day.

Fifteen wineries were bringing their liquid wares, including many of my local favorites. Some of the best chefs in town were making appetizers for the occasion. Live music was promised, and the silent auction offered a host of great prizes. Oh, and St. James is a 10-minute stroll from my house. Just the sort of thing I should have attended, partly for my own enjoyment, partly to gather fodder for a wine column. This wine column.

I do try to be a good Davis citizen, to support local businesses and charities and events. But I just couldn’t go. I pass St. James nearly every day as I walk to town or to visit friends or to attend a concert at UC Davis. It’s a familiar place, a neighbor of sorts. When I was a grad student in the ’80s, I attended Mass there, sometimes daily. I like the rose garden.

But in late 2008, for several weeks, a big banner took over their B Street lawn: YES ON PROPOSITION 8.

If, like me, you’re always getting those propositions confused, I’ll remind you that Prop. 8 sought to amend the California Constitution so that the already-established right of gay couples to marry in our state would be rescinded. In other words, it mandated one set of rules for gay and lesbian couples and another set for everyone else.

The Catholic Church, along with many other churches and many right-wing organizations, put a lot of money into this — about $40 million (money that could have been spent settling the church’s child-abuse lawsuits). And spread a lot of lies along the way.

They won.

But it was the daily sight of the local banner that upset (distressed, saddened, enraged, grieved) me more than any other part of that ugly campaign. Right there, in huge letters, on a building that I felt at least a small part of, a sign saying to the Davis community that some of their neighbors should have their rights taken away. It was doubly upsetting in that I am among those neighbors.

I don’t want to marry. At least not until the federal government accords equal rights to gay married couples. I don’t want to marry for a lot of reasons, among them a fear that our couple-centric culture will then decide that there are two kinds of gays — the good, safe (married) ones and the not-so-good, dangerous (unmarried) ones. But most of my coupled gay friends made a different decision, and I honor that, just as I honor the decision of heterosexual couples to marry.

And for a short while in California, we gay folks had that choice.
But every day of that election season I was reminded by the banner that part of Davis, good old laid-back, accepting Davis (my experience as a local lesbian up until that point) really wanted to take that choice away from me.

I have nothing against a church, any church, deciding that it doesn’t want to marry gays. That’s its prerogative. If I’m a church member and don’t agree with that policy, I can leave. Which is what, many years ago, I did.

The church, as far as I’m concerned, “owns” marriage-as-sacrament (or marriage as-covenant or whatever), and it can do what it wants with it. But for most folks in this country — and in history — marriage is first and foremost a civil contract with legal, political, social and financial consequences.

(I make this distinction in the spirit of the good Jesuits who taught me at Santa Clara U. Personally, I’d be happy to cede the word “marriage” to the churches, and rename the civil contract required for everyone who chooses to partner in this particular legal, political, social, financial way. “Civil union” has a nice ring and some precedence. But that’s not going to happen anytime soon.)

Grandson Rowyn (aged 5, as he is very happy to tell you) was visiting this week and overheard a conversation about the theft of our next-door neighbor’s car. I didn’t think he was paying attention, but after the conversation had taken a different tack, he said, suddenly, in a serious, contemplative voice, “I think robbers don’t always remember what belongs to them.”

A pretty generous way of looking at things.

I’m trying to cultivate a 5-year-old’s generosity, so I’m thinking that the good folks at St. James who want to rob me of my rights have simply lost sight of what belongs to them (marriage-as-sacrament) and what belongs to the rest of us, including me and my partner of 27 years (equality under the law).

Despite my Sicilian ancestry, I don’t hold grudges any longer than absolutely necessary (nor do I hold St. James responsible for all the sins of the Catholic Church), so I’ll happily accept acknowledgment of error and a simple apology. I’ll even promise to resist the temptation to amend St. James’ more recent banner — “Catholics, Come Home” — by adding “unless you’re gay.”

And to attend next year’s wine-tasting.

Now in the remote case that you’re reading the wine column for wine recommendations rather than political polemic, I have three, all of them warm-weather sippers in anticipation of spring. The first, Contessa Giulia Prosecco ($8.99, Co-op), is a fun, lively, fruity and typical example of this newly popular Italian sparkler.

I can testify that it’s also an amazing accompaniment to the asparagus, notoriously difficult to pair, just now appearing at the Farmers Market. My thanks to Erin and Paul for sharing this discovery.

The Davis Food Co-op also has on sale ($8.99) a white Bordeaux that would be perfect for uncorking on the patio the day after 5 o’clock becomes 6. From Chateaux Roques Mauriac, it’s a refreshing — and low-alcohol — blend of Semillon and Sauvignon Gris. Like the Prosecco, it should be served well-chilled.

Or, for the same purpose, pick up a bottle of tasty Tailwind White (50 percent of profits go to NorCal AIDS Cycle) from Rominger West, who should be congratulated on its mention (including photo) in the March issue of Sunset magazine.

I attended the RW celebration of this little coup, a welcoming affair with wine, art, live music and food — including a garlicky bean dip and an herbed goat cheese log, both made from Sunset recipes.

Thanks to Mark West for so frequently reminding us — by hosting such lovely parties — to take time to celebrate the small things. He’s a good neighbor.

— Reach Susan Leonardi at [email protected] Comment on this column at www.davisenterprise.com

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