I have known for some months that I would be awarded a medal. Whenever anyone has innocently asked ’what’s new’ I’ve been saying, “I’m getting a medal; a real medal they pin on your heaving bosom.”

The replies have varied. The most usual response, at least from co-workers and anyone that knows me at all being, “what are YOU getting a medal for?” Mostly I have answered with an airy, magnanimous yet humble wave of the hand and something like, “oh, just for putting up with myself,” but at some point some wag came back with “well, in that case, WE should be getting a medal,” prompting me to switch to “oh, just for being me.”

The Queen has commemorative medals struck to mark important anniversaries and other great occasions. Twenty-five years ago she issued the Silver Jubilee Medal and this year the Golden Jubilee Medal of Queen Elizabeth II commemorates the fiftieth anniversary of her reign.

I was nominated by Alexa McDonough, for contributions to the gay and lesbian community. These include shenanigans like organizing a demonstration outside the ATV studios on Robie Street in Halifax in 1995 when the station censored an episode of Star Trek because two female characters kissed. That was the day I made my favourite placard of all time, ’Lesbian kisses $1. Try One!’ artistically spelled out in purple and pink magic marker.

The year after that I gave out ’anal sexer’ buttons printed in red on blinding yellow when columnist Harry Flemming wrote in The Daily News that AIDS research money was being squandered on “druggies and anal-sexers.” I sent a button to Flemming and laughed when I heard he wore it out to a bar that night. Occasionally I still see one of those buttons around town, pinned on a knapsack, so I suppose I have had some small lasting effect.

When an assistant from McDonough’s office called with the news of my nomination she was hesitant, prefacing the news by saying that possibly I wouldn’t accept, would think the whole idea somehow unacceptable because maybe I am anti-Monarchy.

Not true at all. I watch The Queen’s message every Christmas. I stock up on English muffins and marmalade and get up in the middle of the night to watch every marriage and funeral. Maybe it is their celebrity, but I like them all fine. I admire the Queen for her dedication.

An invitation summoned me and three guests to Government House on Thursday afternoon. It was a real ceremony, like on television. There were twenty of us receiving the medal, and while our guests were seated in the big room, two Aides-de-Camp in service uniforms ushered the recipients into a living room and staff plied us with crystal glasses of juice.

A man named Smart told us what would happen, how we would we would go up, one by one, face the assembled while our citation was read, then turn to Her Honour Myra Freeman. She would talk to us while she pinned on our medal. Then His Honour Lawrence Freeman would congratulate us, and then Alexa McDonough, and we would line up for a photo.

There was a strict order of seating. I recognized a few of my fellow recipients, immigration lawyer Lee Cohen, author Laura Jolicoeur and Irvine Carvery, president of the Africville Genealogy Society. Ian Johnson, Paul O’Hara, Fatima Cajee. Several others were in military uniforms, with chests already loaded with medals.

When it was my turn I went up, gave a little smile and then studied the carpet while the Chief Protocol Officer read my citation:

Jane Kansas has worked for the gay and lesbian community for many years. Jane was president of the Gay and Lesbian Association of Nova Scotia. She serves on several Boards and continues to advocate for social justice and the arts through her work as a journalist.

After it was read I turned to Her Honour and she grinned and asked, “Is this your first?” in a disbelieving way, making me laugh. And then His Honour and Alexa congratulated me.

Of the bunch of us, the two most impressive recipients were the oldest, Mirdza Grikis, Prima Ballerina of the Latvian National Opera, known to Nova Scotians as Mme. Dambergs, and Lucy Fuller Riley, former chair of the Board at Spencer House Senior Centre and president of the Halifax Senior Council. Captain Donald Se Lim had a great sturdy yet gentle bearing.

After we all got medals and posed for the group photo, there was a receiving line leading back into the living. I really liked His Honour’s eyeglasses and I told him so.

Later that evening I was taken for crepes at Café Michele in Dartmouth, and I kept my medal on. It’s very pretty. It looks like a foil-wrapped coin on a red, white and blue ribbon, but it has a nice weight to it. It feels different to have the Queen’s face on my chest, more freighted than it does clinking in my pocket. I feel more like I could defend the Queen if I had to. Plus I think wearing the medal got me really good service.