family. Sunday, of course, is
Mother’s Day. My mom, Ellen, and I
have often gone to a Red Sox game,
complete with walking around the
warning track that’s opened up for
fans that day. But that leaves out
my other mom, Maureen, because
sports are not her thing. So, my
guess is we’ll do something all three
of us will enjoy.
And while that’s a fun and important
day for us, less than a week later on
May 17th we’ll remember a pivotal
moment for our family and many
others: Nine years ago, my moms
were one of the very first couples to
marry in Massachusetts.
I was 15 at the time, and it was a
whirlwind of a day: getting their
marriage license at Newton City Hall,
then off to Probate Court to get an
exemption to the three-day waiting
period. In the late afternoon, on a
sparkling spring day that felt more
like June, we returned to City Hall. I
stood with my moms while the
Mayor married them in his office as
cameras flashed from every corner.
And then it got really crazy. As we
opened the doors leading outside, the
sunbeams revealed an energetic and
high-spirited crowd of supporters. A
few steps behind, I watched my
parents step outside, hand-in-hand,
as the crowd let out the loudest
cheer I had ever heard (outside of a
Sox-Yankee game of course). I saw
the joy, but I didn’t quite grasp the
significance of what it all meant.
Earlier that year during a legislative
challenge to the law, I spoke out for
our family at a state house rally.
Looking at my notes now, I’m struck
that while progress continues
towards marriage equality, including
the two historic cases now before the
US Supreme Court, it remains out of
reach for millions of American
families.
Back then, I described myself as an
average teenager. I played softball,
volleyball, took karate and liked
going to the mall and seeing movies.
I talked about my parents, both
lawyers, who had already spent 25
years together as a couple, and that
I didn’t know many others who could
say they’d been together that long.
My parents then and now, are my
role models. They love each other,
care for one another, and for me —
we’re family. After graduating from
college in Maine, I came back to
Boston and I’ve spent the past two
years at Generations Incorporated, a
literacy non-profit that engages older
adults as tutors and mentors to
children struggling with reading. That
sense of doing something that might
make a difference comes from my
parents in the same way that my
love of sports comes from my mom,
Ellen, and my movie buff side comes
from mom Maureen.
One thing I’ve learned is that
whatever we do on Sunday, writing a
nice card goes a long way. It gives
each of them something personal
and meaningful, and it forces me to
put into words and reiterate just how
much I appreciate their love and
support.
I never really thought of my parents
as trailblazers. To me they were —
and are — simply my parents. But
I’ve seen them stand up for our
family, beginning with filing a
landmark case that allowed both of
them to legally adopt me when I was
four.
It didn’t really surprise me when
they stepped forward again to ensure
that they and thousands of other
loving Massachusetts couples could
make that special, lifetime
commitment through marriage. I
was proud of them and it’s why the
month of May resonates even a little
more in our family.
Kate Brodoff lives in Brookline. Her
parents, Ellen Wade and Maureen
Brodoff, were one of the plaintiff
couples in the Goodridge case.
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