Between Dominic's coverage of the local movement, Eli's growing collection of protest letters from around the country, Schmader's running list of good slogans for homemade signs, Savage's photos of the protests earlier this week in New York City, and our call today for you to put your protest photos in our Flickr pool (the best of them will be published in The Stranger's print edition next week), Slog has become one-stop shopping for information on the Prop 8 protests, but there's some protest-related information we've received that we're not putting up on Slog: the address of a home in Bellevue that belongs to the family of a man who donated $50,000 to the "Yes on Prop 8" campaign. A Mormon family. A protest outside of this family's home is being planned for Monday night.

We would love to tell you where this house is... but, uh, the last time we put a home address in something we published, that didn't work out so well. (You remember? A parody of those guides to houses with crazy holiday decorations? Wherein we wrote that having McCain signs in the yard constituted "spooky" Halloween decorations? And then right-wing blogs picked it up and readers around the country insisted—against all reason—that we were trying to incite violence to these houses, even though we weren't doing that in the least?)

According to the email we got from organizers of this Monday night protest:

The demonstration outside [redacted]'s home will take place on Monday, November 17th, from 6-8pm, in honor of "Family Home Evening," a day of the week on which Mormons are told to stay at home and bond with their families over their faith and values. In the spirit of the growing anti-Mormon backlash, join others this Monday by taking part in a very special Family Home Evening of sharing opinions and talking about faith. Since it will be dark, don't forget your headlamps and other means of portable personal lighting to illuminate your own signs.

An autobiographical digression on this "Family Home Evening" business: My parents were non-denominational Christians who spent much of my early years in California shopping for the perfect church. We went to a Presbyterian church for a while, and a Methodist church, and a Congregationalist church, and a Baptist church, and for two years—roughly from when I was 8 to 10—we went to a Mormon church. The family across the street, the Roberts family, was a hale, happy, wavy-haired bunch, with two daughters and two sons and businessman dad who played tennis with my dad and a stay-at-home-and-give-music-lessons-on-the-side mom. Their children were slightly older than my parents' children. Their oldest son (who looked not unlike John F. Kennedy) was on his mission in Spain. My parents regarded this family as the ideal family, and for those two years set about making the Frizzelles a little more like the Robertses. One thing the Robertses did one night a week—I remember it being Sunday, though maybe it was Monday—was Family Home Evening.

There are a lot of crazy things about the Mormon religion, but Family Home Evening isn't one of them. For those two years, Family Home Evening at the Robertses was the highlight of my week. It consisted of family talent shows, family skits, playing pop songs off the radio for each other on the piano, jumping on the huge trampoline in the Roberts's backyard, sitting in the Roberts's hot tub, reading to each other, and never turning on the television. It happened at the same time every week. It was something you could count on. It felt like a club. Like a secret, special thing. It felt... cool. I'm pretty sure my parents thought: Why doesn't every family do this? No wonder this family is so happy.

I imagine this wealthy Mormon family in Bellevue being interrupted as their oldest daughter is playing her best version of song she just learned on the piano. They stand up and go to the window and peer out. There is a furious-looking dyke, there is a frightening Sister of Perpetual Indulgence, there is someone holding up a sign that says "KEEP YOUR LAWS OFF MY COCK!" or whatever—I'm just saying it seems very likely that an angry protest outside of one family's home, a family in the middle of having a good time together, might not have the sort of tolerance-expanding effect protesters are going for. I can't see the protesters being perceived as anything but taunting, unfriendly, satanic, a threat. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the protesters are planning something more subtle, something sweeter, something about love. To that end, since I'm planning on going to this protest, I have made a sign that says, goofily, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH LOVE?" That's the kind of sign that would make a family in the midst of Family Home Evening think. Something that might stick in someone's mind—not shocking or snappy, but sweet and sincere.

For the record, we didn't become Mormons. My parents expressed interest in joining the church, they were taken to the big temple in LA to learn more about their new lives as Mormons, and they didn't like what they learned. Then, the same week, the bishop of our local ward (i.e., the leader of a geographic region of Mormon churches), who was a close friend of the Roberts family, was found dead in his garage one afternoon by his wife after she and the kids had been out running errands, having slit his own throat with a big kitchen knife. That was the end of our Mormonism.

UPDATE/CLARIFICATION: The organizer of this protest has contacted The Stranger to say: "I wanted to clarify something that was discussed in the [above] Slog post. This guy [who lives in this house] has four kids, all grown adults, so it's not like I'm trying to scare his little helpless children. Just there to be a bitch to full grown adult bigots."