Free State Observer

What unfathomable chain of events would draw former residents of Pennsylvania, California, Maine, Florida and New York to gather together in the home of a New Hampshire state representative for bright green Cookie Monster-themed cake? No, it’s not an L. Neil Smith novel (although there are numerous parallels to “Pallas“, which I borrowed from a former resident of Illinois and just finished two days ago and give two libertarian sci fi thumbs way up).  It’s the one-year anniversary of the birth of one of the very first “homegrown” Free Staters!   Little A was in fine fettle and drooling like a madman as he was lauded, feted, tickled and hugged, not to mention photographed and videoed extensively by his proud mum and grandmum.  His best friend C, the son of two other FSP early movers, participated in helium balloon grasping, new toy demoing, prat falls and general toddler hilarity.  How did these two future New Hampshire statesmen meet?  Well, it’s a long story which you’d have to peruse the Free State Project website to fully understand, but basically this one guy moved to New Hampshire from Florida, hooked up with this native chick, had a baby, met this couple who moved from New York who had a baby almost the same age as theirs, one mom works while the other stays home, so the stay-at-home mom started babysitting both boys, and the rest, as they say, is history. C’s mother will soon be giving birth to another crewmember of Free Staters: The Next Generation.

Yes, it’s true: Free Staters are creating new libertarians the old-fashioned way: by giving birth to them.  At the last MVP meeting, I took an available seat, looked around, and asked to no one in particular “What, am I in the baby section?!”  There was one at my table (well, 1 1/2, if you want to count the one in its mom’s belly), one at the next, one at the table next to that, and several others who, mercifully for my remaining timpanic membrane, had been left at home with a parent.  The mayor of Manchester, who came by Murphy’s Taproom to solicit the support of the Porcupines in his upcoming run for reelection, kept a cool head and never missed a beat when one rapscallion grabbed him by the pant leg during the course of charging around the room…. but I digress. There was a birthday party. Where topics of discussion ranged from California’s recent ban on teen drivers’ use of cell phones and ”the night I got wasted with Doug Stanhope” (who will be performing a benefit show on behalf of the Libertarian Party of New Hampshire at Murphy’s Taproom on Oct. 17th… tickets on sale now at www.lpnh.org !), to the ubiquitousness of demanding that children share their toys and the ethics of child leashes.  The coolest gift of the day was a tricycle, which the proud dad was immediately ordered to assemble while one baby insisted on sitting on it during the assembly process while the other stole the tools necessary to do so.  Then both attempted to sit on it at once, not necessarily facing forward, and most definitely NOT wearing helmets.  Live Free or Cry!

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My beloved is mine, and I am his… Until the day breaks and the shadows flee… 

Yesterday I attended my second Porcupine wedding.  This one, like the first, was the marriage of a male Free State Project migrant to a female New Hampshire native.  I feel a certain amount of responsibility for this particular match, as the bride first caught the groom’s eye at a Merrimack Valley Porcupines meeting last year (or should I say, the teensy weensy skirt she was wearing caught his eye!).  As I understand it, they had their first date on election night, after holding signs for the same pro-liberty candidate.  A shared passion for freedom and limited government can be quite the aphrodisiac, overcoming hurdles such as differing religious and cultural backgrounds. 

The ceremony took place in the community church of Brookline, a town not far from where I live but which I’d never had reason to visit before.  The scenery on the drive there was surprisingly rural; I passed corn, squash and cabbage fields, U-pick apple orchards, guys driving tractors, and lots of the ubiquitous enormous and gorgeous old New Hampshire houses.  A hand-painted sign offered a discount on “Horse Lessons” (do they teach you how to be a horse??).  I also passed multiple churches, which perhaps excuses me for barrelling right past the one I was headed for.  Fortunately, I recognized someone standing in front of it and recognized my mistake (besides, a drive in New Hampshire without at least one wrong turn is a drive where someone other than ME is behind the wheel).

It was a blazing hot end-of-summer day, and I had debated long and hard with myself as to what I could wear that would be a) appropriate for a summertime church wedding b) comfortable c) not make me look fat(ter).  At the last minute, I scrapped a sleeveless dress in exchange for a silk blouse with blazer, a decision I later regretted.  It was about a million degrees in the church; before the ceremony had even begun, I had visible sweat drops all over my face.  The invitations might just as well have said “Location: ON THE SUN!!”  I distracted myself by noting the many differences between a Methodist church (which I had never seen before) and a Catholic church (with which I am all too familiar): no holy water, stations of the cross, or statuary, and most notably, the big cross behind the altar didn’t have a dead Jesus hanging on it.  Also, the youth of today wear things in church that my mama would have smacked me upside the head for wearing.  Some of the non-youth, too.  I know that some libertarians like to flout rules of social etiquette, with disparaging references to ”pandering to conformist bourgeoisie sensibilities”.  I disagree.   When attending an event hosted by someone else, in a place of religious significance to that person, it is simply common courtesy to the host to dress and comport oneself in a manner that one’s host considers appropriate to the occasion.  Just because someone’s NOT holding a gun to your head or threatening you with imprisonment doesn’t make it OK to do whatever the hell you want everywhere, every place.  OK, tangential rant over.  I also perused the wedding program, which, while mostly serious and incorporating numerous romantic Bible quotes, also contained such oddities as “Ninja Turtle sing-a-long” in the list of hymns to be sung.  Also, two of the ushers were sporting dark sunglasses and earpieces with wires snaking into their suit coats, a la Secret Servicemen or Men in Black.  Gotta love a couple who manage to insert bits of sci fi geekery into a Methodist service!

The bride’s guests were on the left of the church, the groom’s on the right.  But since many of those in attendance are friends with both, it was a bit of a free-for-all.  The right side of the church definitely had more people in saris, though. 

The ceremony, once it got started, was short, sweet and to the point (thank goodness the Maid of Honor, with a notorious reputation for being late to everything, was uncharacteristically punctual).  Good thing, too, as many of us were about to slide right off the wood pews from the sweat.  Afterwards, everyone adjourned to the ground floor reception hall, which was filled with cafeteria-style long tables.  I sat across from a woman and daughter who knew the bride from her church youth group and writing group.  The best man, another FSP migrant, gave an amusingly grandiloquent toast to the happy young couple, and then we enjoyed a buffet lunch of salads and sandwiches, all of which had been prepared by the bride and her family.  In fact, almost all of the wedding was a DIY affair.  The bride designed the wedding invitations (and, I suspect, the programs).  The bride’s tiara was handmade by another Free Stater migrant.  The bride’s parents did some quick shifting around of floral arrangements after the ceremony and before the official start of the reception to get double use out of them.  Yankee ingenuity is alive and well in the Granite State.

The bride is one of the very first people I met after migrating to New Hampshire from the PRC (People’s Republic of California), and I am honored to have been allowed to share one of the most important days of her life.  The groom, like myself, moved to New Hampshire from far away, but has found that the state has many things to offer in addition to a more liberty-friendly political environment: career opportunities, lower taxes, and numerous venues in which to socialize (and sometimes even fall in love) with other liberty lovers.  I wish them both the best.

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