with a real feel of about 105 degrees, we gathered with thousands of others to watch our son perform at PRIDE FEST in chicago. the energy was electric and the set flew by, even in the midst of an insanely hot summer day.
northalsted is a landmark LGBTQ+ neighborhood, an ultra supportive community that offers undying love and non-profit medical and mental health resource assistance to its residents. we always feel welcome there; our son’s friends and complete strangers embrace us – just as we embrace them.
this year we took the train down and uber-ed over to the event. last year we had driven down and – between PRIDE and the cubs game at wrigley field- the traffic was unbelievable and took a couple hours longer than anticipated (not to mention the tornado on the way home when we tucked littlebabyscion right next to a brick building – a closed restaurant – after we had been literally lifted up off the ground by the winds.)
the show was fantastic. there is nothing like seeing your child in their bliss. and here was our son – an EDM artist – in his skin, in his element, in his community, in his neighborhood – doing what it is he is supposed to be doing and loving every second. there is no way i would miss that. there is no way i would miss any event for either of our children – our son or our daughter – that is an expression of themselves – given simply that we know what it is, when it is and where it is. it is the nature of parenthood. it is the privilege of being a parent. it is a choice and i will choose it every time.
i know that there are many parents – hell, many people in our country – who would not – even for a second – support any such effort as attending PRIDE or supporting – in any way – a child (young or grown) in the LGBTQ community. there are those who have – horrifyingly – excommunicated gay family members, who have turned their backs on their own. there are those whose actions have undermined this community, who wish to eliminate the rights of those in this community, who endanger this community with vitriolic uninformed rhetoric and undisguised hatred. it’s a sad statement of conditionality and it absolutely breaks my heart.
if we could show up for every one of the members of this community – at every one of their personal bliss-events or in their own life-affirming moments – we would.
because if we each stand in the middle of the grace of this universe, then we each should likewise stand in the middle of loving grace for each other. it’s not that hard. it’s not really hard at all.
and the choice to be actively-accepting, unconditionally-loving can’t be more important than it is right now.
“do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.”(my sweet momma, but originally, john wesley)
my sweet momma would have loved his friends. like i mentioned in blogs last week, they – and strangers – surrounded us at PRIDE with hugs and conversation, bottles of water and gatorade. they laughed and danced and applauded and volleyed the beach ball. solicitous, they paid attention to those around them, even us. they made us feel like it mattered to them that we were there. it was fitting that one of our son’s friends wore this hat. doing good – being kind – choosing kindness without hesitation – seemed the theme.
it is surprising – with all the touting of goodness that is preached in various places on our globe, the pontificating about generosity that permeates, the statements of mission written and proclaimed in mighty boardrooms – that it is in the simplest of places that you find goodness. it is in the humblest of people you find generosity. it is in the groups – marginalized and demeaned – you find mission. it is sometimes just absolutely missing in those other places – the places where you would expect all of that. irony is alive and well. or would that be hypocrisy?
they weren’t tryyying to do good. they just were.
it takes just seconds to decide how to respond to someone else’s question, comment, action, behavior. in that moment – just before responding – i would hope – if at all possible – to choose to be kind, to do good.
my sweet momma loved to whoop it up at parades and concerts and sporting games. any chance to be boisterous and she’d take it. i can just imagine her at PRIDE – putting on a rainbow lei and a “do good” hat, waving her arms in the air yelling, “wowee!! wowee!!”
we went to chicago PRIDEFEST on saturday. it was in the 90s and a sweltering day. though we have taken the train countless times to chicago – and to the festival last year – we decided to drive down this time. we did not check the chicago cubs calendar first. yikes. the north halsted boystown area was a hot mess with the concurrence of cubs fans and PRIDE. so.many.cars. it literally took us an hour and a half to go just merely two miles to get to our son’s condo where he had saved us a parking spot.
we breathed a sigh of relief as we pulled into his alley, driving toward our parking spot…until…we saw that someone else had taken it. uh-oh. though we had planned lots of extra time, we now had 23 minutes until his performance on the waveland stage. i considered double-parking and rejected it, thinking littlebabyscion would be towed. clearly, we needed to go back out into the fray and find a spot. with our senses of humor still intact, we drove down the alley and exited back onto his road. somehow there was the miraculous appearance of a spot on his street…miraculous except for the signs everywhere that say “tow zone: no parking on cubs game days except with a parking permit”.
the four guys on the sidewalk in this boystown ‘hood were walking somewhere briskly when i jumped out of the car to ask them about the seriousness of the signage and parking, explaining the whole story and apologizing for telling the whole story (to which jordan kindly said, “it’s ok!!”). bryson – understanding the imperative of a mom getting to see her EDM artist son perform and notmissabeat – immediately told me he’d run back to his place and get me a temporary parking pass he had and no, i didn’t need to pay him anything at all. the generosity of these guys!! what’s not to love?
we parked and walked as fast as possible to the entrance our son suggested. the lines were astonishingly long but the security guard got us in quick as a flash when he heard our son was performing in four minutes. what’s not to love?
we found our way to the camera by the middle of the intersection – where our son had directed us. and we found ourselves surrounded by his friends, every one of them hugging us hello, an unparalleled warm community. his dear friend brought us a gatorade, another brought us a water, another – at the end of his performance – a canned adult beverage. what’s not to love?
we danced and visited and celebrated with thousands of others all smushed in to watch. our son’s friends – all so kind – wandered over again and again, checking in on us and hanging out. i gave out “be kind” buttons to anyone and everyone around. beachballs volleyed across the audience and PRIDE flags waved in the air. their set was amazing – the music kept everyone upbeat and happy. it was thrilling to watch – just like at milwaukee’s PRIDEFEST a couple weekends ago – where i took this photo from the VIP section where our son – since he was performing on the giant dance pavilion stage – made sure we were given access. i just don’t know what’s not to love about this.
although it is verrrrry unusual these days for me to wear a pair of shorts out and about if we aren’t hiking on some trail, i did anyway. because pride encourages people to be simply who they are. and every body shape and size and color is accepted and celebrated. i never had even one of those self-conscious “why did i wear this?” moments. even as likely one of the oldest people in the crowd, i felt completely included. what’s not to love?
i believe that even if i were not the mom of a gay son, i would still feel the same way. i believe that i would still completely support the LGBTQIA community. i believe i would still wonder – when i see others pushing back or curling their lips in disdain and exclusion – what’s not to love?
because i believe in love. i believe in loving one another. i believe in the most basic tenets – of kindness and generosity, peace and fairness and equality, respect and truth and – the big one – love.
and, though it shows a (disgusted) glitch in my own acceptance-of-others-meter, i have a really hard time understanding why anyone – on this good earth – would have the effrontery to not find acceptance-of-others part of life itself. who among us has that right? to eliminate others? to treat others less-than? to exclude because of a person’s gender identification or sexual orientation? “how does that even affect you?”, i wonder of those who marginalize LGBTQIA, who promote ‘anti’ ideology, who bully-pulpit, who hypocritically pontificate, who write or encourage or vote for laws or politicians that minimalize and restrict. without thinking. or sorting. or discerning. or checking in with their heart. i just don’t get it.
i was proud to go to PRIDE. i always will be. what’s not to love?
big news!! it was a banner day!! someone let us loose in old navy during their $2 flip-flop sale and voila! i now am the proud owner of three (3!!!) new pairs of flip-flops!! all of them are black, but one has sparkly straps!! and the best part? there is more than 1/16″ between my foot and the ground. (i’m not sure there was even a sixteenth of an inch – but eh…who’s measuring?!)
so today i am excited to wear my new flip-flops to chicago PRIDEFEST!! because one can never place toooo much trust in a pair of new flip-flops, i will carry an extra pair along. i don’t want to have some sort of flip-flop disaster and be stuck walking around barefoot with a zillion people, all jostling – with no ill intent – to step on my bare feet.
i have a line-up of shoes in the basement. they are along the leading edge of the long storage area where the boxes of cds are stored. i need to go through these – again – and give most of them away. they are not the footwear of my 65-year-old-feet. they are the footwear of my 45-55 year old feet. or maybe even earlier, say, 36-45 year old feet. and – if you haven’t noticed this about your feet yet – or if you haven’t given in to this about your feet yet – or if you have refuuuused to acknowledge this about your feet – things change when it comes to feet. needs change. styles change. heel height changes. arches change. toe-room changes. toe-cleavage-pumps are not making the top of the priority list anymore. it’s been years, really. but giving in? letting go? that’s the tough part.
so i will likely hold onto the 1/16″ thick flip-flops i’ve been wearing. cause you never know when you might need them. i could do yardwork in them or walk around the ‘hood in them or bring them to the beach or or or….
the point is, i don’t want to waste my new $2 flip-flops. i need to save those for the best flip-flop-wearing times. like today.
so it’s a big day! i’ll be wearing a pair of new flip-flops! and today i will walk around in blissful ignorance of the pebbles beneath my feet. i will dance and hug people and my 1/2″ thick flip-flops will participate in a great celebration! i will be happy-happy for the little things and i will flip and flop my way into embracing my 65 year old feet.
on friday i projected being proud to be there – at chicago pridefest. i underestimated it.
even in its boisterous volume – loop high-fidelity-noise-reduction-earplugs and all, even in its crowded-can-hardly-move streets – take a breath, take a breath, take a breath, even in its vast array of body-expression – everyone seeming so comfortable on this day in their own skin, i felt at home. there was not one time we experienced any rudeness. there was not one time anyone excluded us. there was not one time anyone looked us up and down, measuring, discerning, approving or disapproving. there was not one time anyone seemed in-your-face superior. there was freedom. there was the peace of acceptance. there was – love of one another – as far as the eye could see.
our son’s friends ran to greet us and a tiny little girl passed out rainbow happy face buttons. we browsed the merch booths and returned to the corner in time for our son’s performance. an EDM artist, his show was seamless and powerfully energetic.
i might have worn different shoes. the health app on my phone said 9.7 miles. i’m thinking it was more. it was impossible not to dance, so i’m pretty sure that added to the steps i took, but keen sandals are not really dancing shoes. i don’t know if the tevas would have been better. what i do know is i had really happy feet and that doesn’t even start to compare to my heart.
though most of the time i watched my-son-on-stage-in-his-element…his imperative, as david said, “making music that sets people free.” i turned around a few times, to look at the crowd behind us.
people blissfully dancing, moving, touching, hugging, smiling. there didn’t seem to be one iota of self-consciousness or doubt. it wasn’t about wondering if they belonged, if their actions – or their very beings – would be measured against some heteropatriarchal b-s.
and i was so proud.
proud of our son and his music. proud of his really kind friends. proud of the people dancing around us. proud of the fishnet statements and the rainbows and the exposed skin.
this is what the world should model itself after. this is what our country should model itself after. this is what our communities should model themselves after. period.
and then – in the forwarding of love as the only north star – all could be proud.
reverse threading 