After I published a love story in the New York Times last month about how I presided over the wedding of a dying Minneapolis man to his partner of 38 years, I received deeply emotional letters from all over the country.
A letter from a mom in Boston, describing her 2-year-old son saying: "Mommy, why are you crying into your oatmeal?"
From a doctor in Dallas, writing: "if there's a typo in this letter, plese [sic] forgive me; I couldn't see through the tears."
But today I am writing about a voice mail from a south Minneapolis woman named Liz. In a quiet voice, she said that neither she nor her partner of 12 years, Jeanne, could ask a Minnesota judge for a deathbed wedding.
Same-sex weddings are barred, and a 2012 ballot measure could amend the Minnesota Constitution to keep such weddings illegal for generations.
Judges usually don't comment in newspapers about legal matters; we have engrained habits of judicial reserve and modesty. I am writing, however, not about the law, but about love, family and understanding.
I think of Elie Wiesel, the author and Holocaust survivor, who wrote, "The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."
I know a little about justice. I've labored in the trenches of justice, as a lawyer or judge, for more than 33 years.