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Sean Patrick Maloney
(July 30, 1966 - living) U.S.A.

Sean Maloney

Politician

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Sean Patrick Maloney was born in Sherbrooke, Quebec, Canada to parents with U.S. citizenship. Sean grew up in nearby Hanover, New Hampshire, and was raised with his six siblings in what he describes as a "small Irish Catholic family."

After attending Georgetown University for two years, Sean transferred to the University of Virginia where he earned his Bachelor of Arts in international relations in 1988. After earning his undergraduate degree, Sean spent a year volunteering with Jesuit priests in the slums of Chimbote, Peru. Afterwards he returned to the U.S. and earned his Juris Doctor from the University of Virginia School of Law in 1992.

In 1991, Sean began working on Bill Clinton's first campaign for President, and in Clinton's re-election campaign he worked as Director of Surrogate Travel. After the successful campaign Sean was offered a position in the White House staff.

From 2000 to 2003, Sean served as Chief Operating Officer of Kiodex, Inc. He was a senior attorney at the law firm Willkie Farr & Gallagher, during which time he represented the Matthew Shepard Foundation. In March 2011 he joined the law firm Orrick, Herrington & Sutcliffe as a partner.

Following the killing of gay University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard, Sean was one of two representatives Clinton sent to his funeral. In an article about the event, a newspaper noted that Sean often refers to himself as "the highest ranking openly homosexual man on the White House staff."

In March 2012, Sean announced his intention to run for New York's newly-drawn 18th congressional district. Sean won the Democratic primary on June 26 with 48% of the vote. He ran for re-election, defeating Nan Hayworth.

On January 3, 2013, Maloney was sworn into the 113th United States Congress. On his second day in office, Maloney spoke on the House floor, criticizing a delay in federal Hurricane Sandy aid, and urging House Speaker John Boehner and his colleagues to pass an aid package.

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Just before Sean was to depart for Little Rock Arkansas, to serve as deputy director of advance scheduling for Bill Clinton's '92 presidential campaign, he decided to go clubbing. He had never been to a New York gay club. And he had never encountered anyone like Randy Florke. He met Randy on the dance floor of the New York nightclub Roxy.

Randy Florke"He was a beautiful guy," Sean recalled, describing himself at the time as "among the great unwashed." A budding politico, Sean had told no one that he was gay; at the Roxy, he was too frightened to even say his first name. Screwing up the courage to greet Randy, he introduced himself as "Patrick."

Their differences melted away on the dance floor. When Randy wrote his number on a napkin, Sean put it in his wallet. He kept it there for 20 years.

It was a moment that neither could have predicted from that night at the Roxy, when Randy, heartbroken from losing a longtime partner, was only seeking a casual fling; when Sean, about to start work at a white-shoe law firm, was still wondering, and worrying, about what it would be like to date a man.

At first, they met only at night, after Sean told friends he was going to bed. But Sean was persistent, even as he traveled the country working on Bill Clinton's 1992 presidential campaign. On a day back in New York, he persuaded Randy to call in sick so they could spend it together. "I am a German Midwesterner. I do not miss work," Randy said. But the date brought them closer. "I realized, I could like this person."

Randy Sean

Still, bliss did not come instantly. Sean moved in, and then moved out; exploring life out of the closet, "I was finally let loose," he recalled. Randy was wary of the pressure of being somebody's first boyfriend. "It was playing with fire," he said.

Then a 3-year-old named Jesus came into their lives.

He was the grandson of a colleague of Randy's, whose parents were drug addicts. Randy, wanting to help, looked after him on weekends; often, Sean came, too. The three grew closer. "Suddenly, we're raising a child full-time," Sean said.

Randy FlorkeFor a fledgling relationship, it was intense. ("Like going over the waterfall in a barrel," as Sean put it.) But it also set a template that would come to dominate their union over the years: Randy making life-altering decisions, and Sean, so cautious in his own life, realizing he was happier because of it.

What had seemed so intimidating at first turned into a gift. At the time, Sean was struggling to tell his parents that he was gay. Having a child in the picture, he said, helped them understand that he still wanted a family of his own.

That was what Randy wanted, too. A child of divorce who grew up shuttling among relatives, he was eager, finally, to have stability in his life. Sean and Jesus offered it. "In the end, we had the same goals," Randy said.

When Jesus's mother died, the couple adopted him. Sean, working for the Clinton administration, began commuting six hours on weekends to upstate New York, where Randy was renovating country homes. (The couple has lived in 17 different houses over the years.)

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One day, Randy called Sean long-distance about a young girl who was up for adoption. Daley, now their daughter, was adopted in 2001; Essie, another daughter, followed two years later. They have just added two additional members to the family. The timing of their adoptions was never planned. Sean and Randy simply left themselves open to providing a home for children who needed them. Is this a form of spontaneity a gay couple's version of the rhythm method?

Sean says that he can't think of many things they have not done or given up as a result of having three kids to raise, but he can say that many of their relationships with friends have actually grown stronger. "We have this whole group of friends who become more connected to us through the kids in a lot of ways. Among gay and lesbian folk you've got a lot of people who don't have children in their live, necessarily - maybe their nieces or nephews or that sort of thing. Our gay male friends just lavish attention, so the kids have a lot colorful uncles who are heroes because they want to give them great presents or take them on adventures. We've had many people come into our live to participate in raising the kids that's real nice."

Sean MaloneyAppearances aside, few gay couples get to know the facets of one another's personality through the curious magnifying glass of a child. "Kids reveal different sides of you," Sean adds. "I'm sure we have fewer dinners, see fewer movies, go on less amazing trips, but I'm thrilled with the choices we've made. It's obviously strengthened our relationship. I'm sure people have children and it gets in the way of their relationship. For us, I don't think so. The kids are so much a part of it. On those rare occasions when they're not around, we look at each other and don't know what to do with ourselves.

On a related note, Sean's coming out to his parents, which happened after he was taking care of Jesus, was facilitated by the fact that he had kids. "Sometimes straight people have trouble understanding that gays and lesbians are just like everybody else, and kids provide a safe harbor. There's no judgement involved with the child, particularly when you're adopting kids that come from tough backgrounds," he explains. "A lot of times when people come out to parents, the things that moms and dads freak out about is 'Oh, you'll never have a family. You'll be alone all your life. You'll be miserable.' They don't realize that gay people have a lot of wonderful possibilities. It's part of a process of having the larger world see us as full human beings with all sorts of stuff going on."

Sean MaloneyAfter two decades together, marriage was not a priority. But last year, Randy traveled to Washington to hear the arguments before the Supreme Court on same-sex marriage. He left profoundly shaken, hurt by the words of those who spoke against change; he thought of friends who died of AIDS and what they had missed.

Randy, 51, and Sean, 47, who was elected in 2012 as New York's first openly gay congressman, were married at a church near their home in Cold Spring, N.Y., as their three children looked on. Representative Nancy Pelosi, the House minority leader, gave a toast. Joan Osborne, the pop singer, crooned a ballad for their first dance.

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On June 21, 250 guests squeezed inside the Episcopal Church of St. Mary-in-the-Highlands, an impeccably restored granite structure, for a wedding ceremony performed by its rector, the Rev. Shane Scott-Hamblen. The grooms wore identical Ralph Lauren dinner jackets - black for the ceremony, cream-hued for the reception.

The evening ended with fireworks above the lawn. But at the altar, Mr. Maloney had abruptly found himself in tears, unable to speak. Seconds passed before he collected himself to recite his vows.

"It was like an eternity," Mr. Maloney said afterward, both embarrassed and elated. Mr. Florke, by his side, smiled at his husband. After 22 years, he hadn't minded waiting a few seconds more.

Randy adds, "I think for heterosexual people it's so natural to get married, and then have kids, that they take it for granted in some respects. I don't think we ever take it for granted. I don't think you ever do when you're gay because it takes so much to orchestrate it, you're aware of how special it is."

family

Sean has been with his partner, Randy, since 1992. They have three adopted children (Jésus, Daley, and Essie) and reside in New York City and Albany.

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Sources: Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia - https://www.nytimes.com - excerpts from an interview by Andy Towle - and alii

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