Dr. Susan M. Love and Dr. Helen Sperry Cooksey never doubted that some day, after two decades together, they would be able to legalize their same-sex union with a marriage certificate. But they didn’t quite foresee the frenzied rush to San Francisco, the eight hours waiting in line in the rain and the slim odds officials gave them of ever entering a City Hall already overwhelmed by other couples with the same goal. Nonetheless, Love, a retired surgeon and author of books on breast cancer and menopause, refused to give up. And Cooksey was equally determined.While Love stood in one line, Cooksey stood in another, to hedge their bets. “They told us there was no way we were going to make it in time to get married but we stayed in line anyway,” Cooksey said. “They told people to go home and a lot did, but we stayed in line anyway. Finally they said we had only a one percent chance of getting there in time for a marriage certificate-but we stayed in line anyway and now we are married.” Love and Cooksey were married on February 15 in the rotunda of San Francisco City Hall in a ceremony presided over by Michael R Farrah Jr., Senior Advisor to the Mayor. The couple’s 15-year-old daughter, Katie, witnessed the ceremony which finally legalized their 21-year relationship. “I wasn’t sure what to think when my moms picked me up at a friend’s house on Saturday morning and said we were heading to San Francisco so they could get married, but I am very happy that we did it,” Katie said. Love is a clinical professor of surgery at the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA. She is the author of “Dr. Susan Love’s Breast Book” and “Dr. Susan Love’s Menopause and Hormone Book,” one of the founding mothers of the breast cancer advocacy movement, a Founder of ProDuct Health (now part of Cytyc, Inc.) and president of the Susan Love Research Foundation. She got her bachelor’s degree from Fordham University, her medical degree from SUNY Downstate Medical Center and an MBA from The Anderson School at UCLA. Cooksey is a general surgeon at the Jeffrey Goodman Clinic of the Gay and Lesbian Center in Los Angeles. She received her undergraduate degree from the University of California in Santa Barbara, a master’s in fine arts from Harvard University and her medical degree from Harvard Medical School. Both women trained as surgeons at Boston’s Beth Israel Hospital, the place where they first met when Cooksey was the intern taking care of Love’s mother. It was several years later, when Helen invited Susan to New Hampshire over Labor Day weekend, that they fell in love. They both practiced surgery in Boston until Love was recruited by UCLA to come to California. No strangers to gay and lesbian civil rights, their court case to allow Cooksey to adopt their daughter went to the Supreme Court of Massachusetts in 1993, setting an early precedent for second parent adoption. “We are used to fighting for our rights, so standing in line for a few hours was a small price to pay to be able to finally wed,” Cooksey said. Love is the daughter of James Love, a retired businessman in Mexico City, and the late Margaret Schwab Love. Cooksey is the daughter of the late Donald Cooksey, a founder and former associate director of the Radiation Laboratory (Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory) at Berkeley and the late Milicent Sperry Cooksey of Berkeley. The couple lives in the Palisades. Although they had undergone a civil union in Vermont in 2002, they had always wanted to be able to be legally married. Friday’s morning paper announced that the City of San Francisco was legally marrying same sex couples and at an early Valentine’s dinner Friday night Susan asked Helen to marry her. They decided to elope the next day and with their daughter jumped on a plane to San Francisco. “It was truly a ‘Rosa Parks moment’,” said Love. “You got the feeling you were part of history in the making and that there was no way they are going to turn the clock back.” In spite of the frenzied hours building up to it, the marriage ceremony itself was a moment of deep emotion for the couple. “I never thought I would be able to stand up in public and marry the love of my life,” said a teary Love. “It really does make a difference.”

For parents, those mysterious minutes before the birth of a child and the deliriously joyful moments after the baby enters the world are preamble to a lifelong relationship. For Deborah and Andy Bogen, daughter Elizabeth’s birth brought with it the happiness of seeing her safely delivered followed by the bewildering news that she had Down Syndrome. The most critical moments for the Bogens were those filled by the words, both good and bad, offered by hospital staff which would lodge deep inside their vulnerable hearts. The obstetrician’s heartless warning not to get too attached to Liz because they might want to consider institutionalizing her stung the new couple to the core. It was the loving words that the couple would repeat over and over as they began the challenge of raising their daughter. The Filipina nurse on duty told Deborah that in her country children like Liz were considered a blessing in the family and that the whole community would take a hand in raising this special child. And the pediatrician offered the Santa Monica Canyon couple firm hope. “You are going to take her home and love her, and she will give you back more love than you can imagine,” he said. “You will nurse her and do all the things we talked of last month in my office.” Deborah and Andy set out on a course of raising their special child, building on positive attitudes that would make the job easier and surrounding themselves with knowledgeable people and helpful counsel that would give them some much needed relief. That first year, now 25 years ago, Deborah began a diary that chronicled the steps the Bogens took to get Liz moving into the mainstream of life. Deborah’s diary, serious, funny and filled with vignettes from the family’s life together, has been compiled in a new book “But Will She Be a Brownie? Lessons from a Daughter with Down Syndrome,” which she has intended as a workbook for other families to read, scribble notes in and refer to often. Deborah and Liz will be talking about their experiences and sign copies of the book on Wednesday, March 3 at 7 p.m. at Village Books, 1049 Swarthmore. From the very start, the Bogens counted their blessings, which included a supportive extended family, living in a city rich in resources for their daughter; having funds to pay for extra help and respite care if needed, Elizabeth’s good health (often children with Down Syndrome have heart and lung complications that require multiple surgeries at a young age); and being resourceful people themselves. When Liz was born, there were few books on the subject, and none that considered the child with Down Syndrome from infancy through independence. “This book was something I really needed to write over a long period of time,” Deborah says. “It’s written in a very plain style, without a lot of jargon, and, very user friendly.” While Deborah follows Liz’s life from the early, getting-organized days, through school days (first at University Elementary School, followed by Santa Monica public schools), to independent living, she doesn’t flinch from revealing her own missteps. “When Elizabeth was born, I had been a teacher of special education for over 10 years. Still when the teachers instructed me in how to help her, I was all thumbs,” she writes. And in her eagerness to “stimulate” Liz, Deborah would often keep up a steady chatter while driving along to encourage her verbal skills.”I remember we were driving along San Vicente and I was telling her all about the coral trees,” Deborah recalls. “Finally, Liz said, ‘Mom, that’s really enough, I’m already talking.’ She was already 3-1/2 or 4 and I’m such a literal person. I didn’t know when to stop.” Early on, Deborah had a feeling that Liz would be strong in the area of language, which she attributes to having developed her cheek and tongue muscles while breast feeding. Her teachers in the Exceptional Children’s Foundation’s Infant Program encouraged families to look for areas of strength in their babies, so Deborah decided to push the language envelope, as she says. Over time, Liz did develop exceptional language skills, which has helped her in establishing friendships, negotiating the public transportation system and working at a job. While language was strong, she was born with extreme hypotonia (low muscle tone) and needed much work in muscle development-balance, sitting up and eventually walking. Apart from helping Liz develop physically, Deborah assisted her in acclimating to the world outside, making friends and navigating her social life. “You have to be prepared to do more than you may like, but it smooths the way for your kid,” Deborah says. “You do extra things even if you were never that kind of person. You have to grease the wheels for her. You have to understand that you will invite more friends over than she will ever get invited.” It was important that other kids knew that Liz and her family were more like others than not. Kids needed to see that Liz had a younger brother, Michael, and a dog and that she played with Barbie. The Bogens as a family did a lot of things with her that other girls do, including watching proudly as she was inducted into the Brownies. Over the course of writing the book, Deborah read portions and got feedback with her friends in her writing circle, and after each chapter was completed, she had Liz read it and add her own comments, which she has done in most chapters. Liz has become an active participant in advocacy and education for people with Down Syndrome. She sits on the board of the Santa Monica Commission for Disability Rights and has served on the board of Best Buddies, the organization started by Anthony Shriver that matches up typical college students with high school students with developmental disabilities. She is a frequent speaker and guest on the local public access TV station in Santa Monica. These days, Liz lives in a condominium not far from the Bogens’ home in the Canyon with assistance from her companion Lucy, who helps her with meals and housekeeping. She takes the bus to her job at Goodwill Industries on Wilshire at Barrington five days a week. Liz and Deborah are deeply connected. Liz calls every morning at 7:30 to check in and is never far from her mother’s heart. “I tell her my secrets, my worries,” Deborah writes in the book. “Often she is my counselor. Who would have thought it? She looms large and takes up a lot of space-a high maintenance kid. Were it not for her, what would I have put in her place?” For more information, visit www.deborahbogen.com

A crowd of 152 authors and readers celebrated our community of literary talent Saturday night at the first-year anniversary party of the Palisades Branch Library building. The cocktail reception honored the writers of Pacific Palisades, whose rich tradition, including Will Rogers’ humor and Bertold Brecht’s irony, continues to this day. Writers, who are by nature an elusive group, seasoned by their own isolation, never quite sure of the permanent value of their work, were overjoyed to socialize with like-minded souls. “This is so wonderful to honor writers,” said Pepper Edmiston, author of “Cookie Jar ABC. “It should be something that happens every year.” Palisadian writers mixing and chatting among the library’s bookshelves and tables represented a world of research, imagination, humor and pathos. Their titles encompass memoirs, such as Virginia Li’s recollections of life in China, Ann Kerr’s personal history of living in the Middle East, and Judy Muller’s experience as a national correspondent; histories, such as Betty Lou and Randy Young’s books the Palisades and Norman Thrower’s history of map production. Novelists included writing couple Josh Greenfeld (“The Return of Mr. Hollywood) and Foumiko Kometani (“Passover”), William Eisner (“Done in by Innocent Things”) and Ken Wales, whose novel “Sea of Glory” is based on the true WWII story of four chaplains on a doomed ship in the Atlantic. Nonfiction writers illuminated subjects from teen-power politics (Sara Boyers) and business management (Paul Doucette) to film festivals (Kenneth Turan) and seaports of the south (John Harrington). The library, showing off its warm texture and rich collections, offered a comfy, civilized venue for the literary evening. “We wanted to do something special and we thought ‘Who could be more appropriate than to honor these authors?” said Mitzi Blahd, president of the Friends of Palisades Library, with a membership of 1,000. Blahd was assisted by her board, including her husband, Bill, Shirley Cabeen, Patricia Curtis, Lynn Gaines, Alice Ann Inglis, Louvenia Jenkins, Nancy Mekelburg, Marcella Miller, L. Bruce and Marjorie Norman, Gayle Rabinovitz, Coral Rugge, Elsie Scarano, Kathy Slattery, Gina Vincent and Sunny Finerman. They worked on the prodigious task of not only uncovering over 200 authors in the Palisades but also tracking down their addresses in order to send invitations. The conversation crackled with the energy of the collective group of communicators. Open and receptive, each author was eager to share news of his or her latest endeavor. Jon Winokur, author of books ranging from tomes on word etymology to golf, has completed a new book “The War Between the State: San Francisco Versus Los Angeles.” Judy Muller (“Now This: Radio, Television…and The Real World”) is a fulltime professor at the USC/Annenberg School of Communication, and Judy Mazel (The Beverly Hills Diet) expects her latest book “Slim & Fit Kids,” which focuses on kids and diet, to come out this fall. Veteran writers showed up on the unusually rainy night for Los Angeles. Victor Boesen, 95, was accompanied by his niece Jane, whom he referred to as “my parole officer.” The author of nine nonfiction books, Boesen’s book “Doing Something About the Weather” set the tone for the evening. Looking his usual dapper self, dressed in shades of beige, documentary film director Nick Webster, 91, relished questions about his autobiographical work. “How to Sleep on a Camel” includes recollections of his film career covering such stories as “I Remember,” about a former prisoner returning to the concentration camps and “Walk In My Shoes,” a personal look of African Americans across America. “So how do you sleep on a camel?” a guest asked. “I never slept on a camel,” Webster said. “My wife came up with the title. The subtitle, ‘Adventures of a Documentary Film Director,’ tells it all.” In the end, writers’ work does often tell, if not all, much of what they’re thinking about. The opportunity for writers to meet and talk among themselves and the guests at Saturday’s night party was exceptional.

Lincoln and Booth were named that way as a joke by their dad-the same alcoholic dad who left them at ages 16 and 11, two years after their mother left. With the help of a small inheritance, the two boys were left to make it on their own. Suzan-Lori Parks’s captivating play “Topdog/Underdog,” playing at the Mark Taper Forum through March 28, catches up with these brothers, now young men living together in a shabby apartment. Lincoln (Harold Perrineau) has been kicked out by his wife Cookie, and Booth (Larry Gilliard, Jr.) is trying to get together with his girlfriend Grace. The action, directed by George C. Wolfe, takes place in the apartment with these two fine actors. Lincoln has a job-playing Abraham Lincoln at an arcade. He sits in whiteface with a fake beard, top hat and black coat, pretending to watch a performance, while arcade patrons try to “assassinate” him with a toy gun. The play, which goes back and forth between the comic and the tragic, achieves a comic peak while Lincoln practices in the apartment. With the help of lighting effects by Scott Zielinski, Lincoln pretends to be in a theater and unwrap candy or answer a cell phone before being shot. Booth doesn’t have a job. His talent is “boosting,” and he comes home to the apartment with things he’s shoplifted. And he practices three-card monte. Although these actors keep your attention glued on them throughout the show, watch out for the three-card monte scenes; the shifting cards are hypnotic. I found myself trying to guess-which one’s the black card, which one’s the red card. Booth lacks a talent for the con game-that talent belongs to his brother, who has retired from years on the street ripping off tourists and others. “Cards ain’t luck,” Lincoln says. “Cards is work.” Booth tries to talk his brother into going back to the street. Although Lincoln claims he put down the cards for good, the lure of the cards still entices him. Both brothers have demons calling them, an inheritance from their parents. “There was something out there they wanted more than they wanted us,” Booth says. The parents left them, driven by their own weaknesses. Will the brothers cave in as well? Just like the first Lincoln and Booth, this Lincoln and Booth also have a dark ending to their tale. “Topdog/Underdgog” is playing at the Mark Taper Forum, 135 N. Grand Ave, through March 28. Contact: (213) 628-2772.

Native American artist Claudia Brentwood is exhibiting her recent work at the Hidden Cafe, 1515 Palisades Drive, through March 28. The show includes a collection of 3-by-4-feet acrylic canvases, and a number of gelee and paint framed pieces. Brentwood is a member of the White Earth reservation in northern Minnesota, where her grandmother and mother grew up. She spent summers on the reservation, attending a number of pow wows, which ultimately guided the direction her art would take. “I always seek to create unity and harmony and am driven to bring the spirit of the Native American forward,” Brentwood says. “The Native American culture and ways are opened to all. One can choose to go in lightly or with depth. I use my art to provide the viewer a glimpse into the true spirit of the Indian, bypassing the surface and diving into the essence. “In ‘Spirit Grandmother,’ the adornment is abstract because it is really inconsequential. The true adornment and beauty lie in the woman’s dignity. “In ‘Unity,’ the white buffalo looks over an infant. The infant represents purity and wisdom, trusting the white buffalo for its safety in this world. The white buffalo is a highly sacred symbol representing hope and renewal for all humanity through harmony between all peoples of the world.” The Hidden Cafe is open for lunch and dinner Tuesday through Sunday. Contact: 230-9823.

Some say it’s more of a culture shock to return home from a foreign country than to actually experience that country. After returning to the States from a 10-day trip to Turkey last October, I understand that sentiment completely. The feeling first hit me as I stood in the boarding line of my connecting American Airlines flight home to Los Angeles. The plane had been delayed on the runway of Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, waiting for a few international flights, like mine, to come in. I had already reached my groggy point when a cheery flight attendant greeting passengers at the door asked if we had just come from Rome. “Turkey,” I answered, since I was the one standing closest to him. “Oh,” he said, looking a bit puzzled but nonetheless enthusiastic. “Budapest?” Before I could correct him with “No, sir, Budapest is actually in Hungary,” he had moved on to the next passenger. From that moment, I knew my experience in Turkey was valuable not only because I had walked through ancient mosques in Istanbul and prayed in the Virgin Mary’s House on the west coast, but for the simple reason that my world had grown bigger. Months earlier, I had written a feature story for the Palisadian-Post about Space Camp Turkey, founded by Palisades residents Kaya and Mary Tuncer in Izmir, Kaya’s hometown on Turkey’s west coast. The Tuncers had then invited me as their guest to see the Space Camp and its home in the Aegean Free Zone (AFZ), an industrial park run by Kaya’s development and operating company, ESBAS. They arranged for Melda G?ner, a Turkish ESBAS employee in Space Camp Turkey’s marketing and PR department, to meet me at the airport in Istanbul. Instant friends, we toured the city under vicious time constraints: two days to see the sultans’ luxurious residence at Topkapi Palace, make careful purchases at the Grand Bazaar and visit the ancient Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia) Museum, a former church-turned-mosque. Istanbul appealed to both my love for intimate European-style caf?s and crowded outdoor markets cluttered with colorful tapestries, vegetables and spices. Having traveled to Cambodia almost a year earlier, I felt reunited with the wild disorder of tiny cars sideswiping pedestrians and the sweet chanting of monks at prayer time. But unlike Cambodia, Turkey literally borders two worlds-Europe and Asia, Christian and Muslim. It neighbors Iraq, in the southeast corner, and Greece and Bulgaria, to the northwest. When I flew to Turkey in early October, the Turkish government was debating a U.S. request (which they ultimately approved) to send Turkish troops to Iraq in order to restore stability in the aftermath of the Iraq war. A month after I returned to the U.S., two synagogues in Istanbul were struck by suicide bombers. Just a couple of days later, the British Embassy in Istanbul was hit. I thought of the red and orange fireworks from a local festival that had exploded in the sky the night Melda and I strolled through the lively Beyoglu area, not far from the embassy. We had stopped in the street to admire them. Back home, the news of the bombings shocked me. I was driving on Sunset, listening to a report on the radio, when a cop pulled me over. My first speeding ticket. It was difficult for me to get back on track that week. I felt incredibly sorry for Turkey, a country that has worked so hard in recent years to improve its economic and political stability. What message would these bombings send to the Turkish people and what would the international community’s impression of Turkey be in the aftermath? While in the Aegean Free Zone, I had discussed Turkey’s political improvements with Dr. Lutz G?rgens, Economic Counselor in the German Embassy in Ankara, Turkey’s capital. G?rgens was visiting the Zone for a German Business Development Day conference, organized by ESBAS. He told me: “This government has been in office for almost a year, has a huge majority and another four years to govern-that is a long period [of stability] in a country that has suffered from continued political crisis and change of direction every other year.” G?rgens also said he believed this stable political framework to be a key factor in Turkey’s economic recovery. At the same conference, a Turkish newspaper reporter had interviewed me about whether I thought Americans would help improve Turkey’s economy. Her mini recorder on the table between us, she sat with one leg folded over the other, plugging away at a cigarette while I rambled on about the possibility of educating Americans about Turkey. All I could really assure her was that her country had impressed me in its effort to bridge cultures and bring people of different nationalities, religions and cultural backgrounds together. Before visiting Turkey, I had never set foot in a place where Muslims and Christians prayed side by side. Yet only miles from the Aegean Free Zone, near the ancient city of Ephesus, such a place exists-a tiny shrine and adjacent room where it is believed the Virgin Mary lived and, some say, died. My Turkish tour guide told me that many Muslims love and honor the Virgin Mary and travel to this sacred place to light a candle for her spirit. I got a different glimpse of Turkey’s spirit of diversity when Melda and I stumbled upon the contemporary art exhibits from the 8th International Istanbul Biennial exhibition. Set up in the traditional spaces of the Ayasofya Museum and Yerebatan Cistern in Istanbul, the exhibition hosted approximately 80 artists from 40 countries. I was surprised to see video projection and neon lights against ancient stone walls, and an enormous digital clock with “time reversed,” as the piece was called. The exhibits explored current issues of justice in a creative, abstract way. Both inside and out of the Free Zone, Turks appeared to be openly proud of their rich history. After all, Istanbul was once Constantinople (formerly Byzantium), one of the most powerful imperial world capitals and seat of the Holy Roman Empire. At its head was Constantine I, the first Roman ruler to adopt Christianity, in the 4th century A.D. When the Ottomans captured Constantinople in 1453, they transformed the Ayasofya and other Byzantine churches to mosques and developed a major Muslim empire that lasted until the early 20th century. Yet Turks are most proud of Atat?rk, “Father of the Turks,” the founder and first president of the Republic of Turkey. Under his presidency (1923-38), Atat?rk modernized Turkey, promoting nationalism, secularism and a European way of life. Now that Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan is in charge of the ruling Justice and Development Party, some still worry that his background in the Islamist movement will disrupt the secular state of affairs. However, the Turks and their forward-looking leaders do not live in the past. Most of the Turkish people I met expressed faith and confidence in their country’s improving political and economic stability. During my final days in Izmir, I joined 42 international students from the United Arab Emirates who were visiting Space Camp Turkey. The Turkish and American counselors working at Space Camp taught us about space and leadership by conducting group activities and helping the students try simulators patterned after astronaut training used by NASA. These eighth graders already knew more about international friendship than I did. Now, having been back for four months, I’m convinced we need more people like Mary and Kaya Tuncer, who have devoted their lives to global friendship. In 2001, they started a Palisades-based nonprofit organization called Global Friendship Through Space Education in order to provide scholarships for children of diverse backgrounds to attend Space Camp. They currently travel back and forth from the States to Turkey several times a year. If more of us could have Space Camp experiences, explore other countries or create opportunities for international dialogue here at home, we would be equipped with the knowledge and strength to build a more peaceful world. And then maybe home wouldn’t feel like such a foreign country.