Kate Bornstein Is A Queer and Pleasant Danger—this is her blog

You say goodbye. I say hello.

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Watching Inauguration 09 in my living room. Shot this on my iPhone using an App called Quad Camera. (click image for full size photo) Four snaps for President Barack Hussein Obama! Big love for all of us! -- Kate

This Is How I Remember Things

This past Christmas holiday, I visited my partner Barbara's family up in Middletown, RI. I've been going up there for Christmas for the past 12 years. This year, Barbara's cousin gave Barbara a rare photo of her family, gathered round for the wedding of her mom and dad. I told B's family I'd do my best to recover the picture. This is how the photo looked when I scanned it in.

I've been a PhotoShop enthusiast for many years. I've learned tricks and tips reading books by Scott Kelby, and attending his seminars. But I never sat down to recover a picture in as bad a shape as this one. There's scratches, missing faces, burnt out details. You can click on the photo to see it full size.

I went to work, adjusting contrasts, coaxing out details, sharpening blurry parts, removing scratches and splotches. Where the hole was too big, I had to fudge a face or two. In the parts of the photo that were almost completely grayed out, I had to invent new outfits for a couple of the gentlemen in the back row. After about a day's work, I ended up with this photo. I was even able to enlarge it a bit. You can click on it to see the full picture. It's not bad for a first whack at correcting an old photo.

I'm the last one left with many memories and stories about my brother, my father, and my mother. I'm 60 years old, so there's a LOT to remember and I tend to get fuzzy on details. I tend to tell what Mark Twain would call stretchers. But I've sworn to myself to make this new memoir I'm writing as accurate and as loving as I possibly can. So, how do I access the memories I alone possess? That worried me until I corrected this photo. See, I've long been a practicer of Cheri Huber's Zen koan: The way you do anything is the way you do everything. And I realized that the way I corrected this photo is the way I'm going to have to remember my mother, my father, and my brother.  

In writing this memoir, I'm going to be coaxing out details of my memory. I'll do my best to sharpen the blurry parts. If I have to fudge a face or two, I'm going to err on the side of love and the best in them. If I have to dress up any of the stories about people in order to fill in the holes of my memory, I'll do my best to make people look as good as I can most lovingly wish them to look. 

And that's how I'm going to remember enough to write this memoir.

Kiss Kiss

K

PS -- A really good resource for PhotoShop users is the National Association of Photoshop Users. I'm a member whenever I can afford it. The monthly magazine alone is great, plus there's a live chat room with PhotoShop users who've always been able to answer my questions about how to get things done. 

Eulogy for my brother, Alan V. Bornstein

The memorial service for my brother was held down on the Jersey Shore yesterday, January 2nd 2009. The service was held three days after he died, according to the wishes of his wife's family who aren't Jewish and don't observe the 24 hour rule for burials. Anyway, my brother and I both decided we'd rather be cremated so that messes up any orthodox burial. On top of that, I've got a gazillion tats, and just one tat will keep you barred from a Jewish cemetery burial. I'm babbling.

I hate that my brother is gone. This is a picture of me, him, and our Dad's dog, Skippy. 

 I'm home with the flu and a bad case laryngitis I've had for two days now. The laryngitis went away for the 13 minutes it took me to deliver his eulogy, and then it came back. That's show biz, it is. The show must go on is part of my ethos.

Before his body was cremated, I got to sit with my brother for awhile. I told him what I wanted to tell him. I listened to what he had to say. I could hear him laughing. I hope I'm always able to hear him laughing—he loved a good joke. I promised him I'd write him a kick-ass eulogy. I promised him I'd make people laugh and I'd make 'em cry. He liked that. So this is the text of that eulogy. 

I hate that my big brother is gone. I hope the eulogy makes you laugh and makes you cry.

Happy new year. 

K