Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

I rendezvoused via cellphone with eleanor and the two teenagers she was loosely accompanying; they were on Fifth Avenue just north of Tenth Street, in front of the church that gives every marcher who wants it water (and many do, by that point).

Eleanor and I bought a small rainbow flag for me to wave--she has a large one in her window at home--which was a nice break from shouting and cheering. We left, hungry and footsore, after standing for about 3 hours, meaning we saw about two hours of the parade, which didn't reach us until around 1. I reapplied sunscreen, and lent it not only to Eleanor but to the two people standing to her left, because I can always buy more and sunscreen is like water--if I'm out in the heat/sun and have enough to share, I share with anyone who needs it.

This is the first time I've actually seen the parade from the beginning. Dykes on Bikes were as cool as I expected. Seeing the official NY police marching band in the same parade with the Veterans of Stonewall was good. But the moment that had me saying "The war is over, and we've won" was the two women in police uniform holding hands as they marched, with a lot of other police, as part of the Gay Officers Action League. (Yes, I know it's not really over, and we keep having to work, but we really have achieved a lot.)

The Brazilians were great, dancing and waving their flags. The children-of-gay-families group included a girl, 7 or so, with a sign that said "Two Moms are better than one". Also a family consisting of two adult men, one adult woman, and their child in a stroller. Lots of kids happy to be in a parade, basically.

Someone in a gorgeous Josephine Baker costume, complete with headdress and bananas. It took me a moment to put the image together and make the connection, and then I shouted "Yay Josephine!" I got a turn, wave, and smile, from a fan glad someone had recognized the original of his costume. (He was far from the only man who did the route in high heels--mad, but as long as people don't expect me to wear them, I don't mind if they do.)

treadpath's band was good, but I didn't spot her specifically, though I looked.

The whole crowd cheered enthusiastically for the Arab contingent, which included someone with a sign that said "Asses of Evil" on one side and "Gay and Iranian" on the other.

There were a lot of floats for things like banks and Starbucks and a rum company. I'm pleased that they're supportive, and that the bank employees can be out at work, but I was a little annoyed at the priority they were getting: I'd have liked to see groups like Senior Action in a Gay Environment, the AIDS activists, and everyone else who's been doing this since it was a lot more difficult and who hadn't passed by the time we left get spots further forward, so everyone would see them. Politicians, ditto. Part of my annoyance there, though, is that gay movement political groups were relegated to the back: if a senator and the city council group get a good spot, so should the groups that have spent years lobbying those politicians for our rights. On the other hand, it occurred to me when I saw the "Kerry for president" people that if Kerry had shown up in person, he'd probably have gotten my vote on the spot. Just as well he didn't--there are other issues I need to investigate. Still, it was good to hear Chuck Schumer reminding us that "This is New York" and saying that one day there will be 51 senators marching, not just him. I took a Deborah Glick/Tom O'Donnell "Out in the Assembly" sticker, though: they're pushing our issues all the time, and not just but being there. The City Council group had signs proclaiming specific recent legislation they've passed, which was a nice touch.

We left a little before 3 o'clock, and got plenty of food at Sammy's Noodle Shop. Then the teens went off on their own, and Eleanor and I walked back to Fifth Avenue, looked at a little more parade, then stopped into Kate's Paperie so she could buy fountain pen ink. I kept saying "I don't need this, nobody needs this" about things like bright green staples. I wanted them, but not at $6 for a box, even a nice large box. I was able to resist Ellie's urgings of creativity and "nobody you know has these" because someone I know does: when I saw the boxes of colored staples, I thought of bohemiancoast because they used multicolored staples for the newsletter at <plokta.con 1>. But then I bought three sparkly pens, because they were sitting at the register; teal and bright blue and green, shades I don't already have.

We walked up Fifth to 14th Street and over to porcinea's for the cat-sitting stuff. By then the parade was almost over, the section passing by was religious groups. I looked for P and T, and other familiar faces, but didn't spot anyone I knew.

I accepted Ellie's invitation to dinner and fireworks, but while the dinner was good, I was propping myself up, barely, on too much caffeine, so I went home instead of staying and going to watch the fireworks with her. By then I'd also developed some kind of odd rash--maybe a heat rash--on my hand. The cortisone cream G gave me fixed that, but it took a bit. Annoyingly, when I got home cattitude pointed out that I'd missed a spot, and had a thin line of sunburn on my shoulder. Looking better this morning, but it was another reason to just go thud in the air-conditioned bedroom, to which I have been returning, on and off, this morning.

Back in September 2001, pnh posted something, to either Usenet or his LiveJournal, on the many different things the American flag means to the people who were flying it.

Here's another: the American flag was raised over the Castro, in place of the rainbow flag, to celebrate the Supreme Court ruling legalizing consensual sodomy. And I was reminded of something Patrick said, around that time: "I'm a patriot. I love my decadent, cosmopolitan, self-indulgent, racially-mixed, godless, intellectually dilettante, drug-abusing, promiscuous, queer-loving country. And its flag is the Stars and Stripes."

Part of why this comes to mind is that I don't think I'm going to be marching in the NY Gay Pride parade tomorrow. The heat and my knees and all make it look like a bad idea. (More likely I'll do an early animal-sitting run, then watch a while; porcinea lives half a block from the parade route, and supportive watchers are a good thing by the time you've walked a couple of miles on pavement in the June sun .) I don't mind not marching, or not as much as I did the first year I decided I couldn't. We have things to celebrate this year--things in the US as well as in Canada--but it is a celebration, not, or not only, a protest march. We're part of the ordinary fabric of this city--bank ads on telephone kiosks with Gay Pride tie-ins; subway posters advising riders which stations to use for the march, for the related PrideFest street fair, and the dance afterwards; a hotel concierge offhandedly advising a tourist against doing the tour bus thing tomorrow because "it's Gay Pride, traffic will be a mess."

I feel like thanking all of you, especially all of you who could easily have said it was nothing to do with you, and not spoken up for your friends, and for the gay and bi people you don't even know, but who all benefit when someone says or does the right thing. Thank you.