pride with a capital j

I marched in my very first Pride parade this year. Yes, it was back in June, but it’s taken me a day or 60 to process all my feelings around the event. Or maybe it’s 75 days. Either way, it’s more than I wanted it to be.

My heart began racing a bit from the moment we knew we were going to be marching. Not the normal racing... that’s my sick sinus. Yes, that’s what it’s apparently called. I have a piece of paper from the doc that proves it. And Google confirmed it’s a thing, so there’s corroboration. It’s not the other thing either. What was that one called? Oh yeah, premature atrial polarization. A lot of syllables to say my heart beats weirdly and that could be why I can’t dance. The writer in me hates that. Not the dancing. The syllables.

But that’s not why my heart was racing. It was racing because we were joining my oldest in the parade. Because the idea of seeing them truly engage in something they believe so strongly in is... well, it’s breathtaking. Like seeing Niagara Falls (the Canadian side) up close for the first time, or what I imagine it would feel like to see the pyramids of Egypt. Maybe I’ll get there one day. I don’t know. I’m not much for getting sand in my clothes. It’s itchy and you never really get it all out.

If I appear to be having a hard time getting to my point, it’s partly because it’s morning and I suffer from Morning Brain. It’s another benevolent affliction (not to be confused with the t-shirts) that causes people (well let’s be honest... me) to ramble incoherently about a variety of unrelated topics.

The other reason I’m struggling a bit is because the feelings I had that day were truly overwhelming. For starters, I felt honored that Jake wanted us there with them. I felt excited to meet some of Jake’s coworkers and friends. I felt a smidge of apprehension because I’d never been part of anything like that before. And I damned sure felt a boat load of pride. I know it’s kind of on the nose, but there’s no better word for it.

Jake is the co-chair of their company’s Pride employee resource group, and part of the job is to mobilize a team to march in the parade. So, when they asked Kim and me to join, the answer was an immediate and enthusiastic yes. There was no part of me that thought about work or golf or even Saturday morning cartoons. Not even the old Superfriends with Wendy and Marvin... long before the Wonder Twin powers activated.

And that’s when the fun started. We had to have t-shirts. Kim was on the case right away... Amazon, Target, and any other place that could deliver in time for the parade. I ended up buying a couple more I knew would arrive late, but just because I liked them so much.

The day of the parade brought a whole new set of feelings to the surface to join what was already brewing. To be honest, a little disappointment crept into my thoughts that morning. Not for Jake or any others. My disappointment was at the idea there had to be a march for something that should simply be good common sense. If good sense was common, I mean. I would much rather be going to a celebration of pride, but in places like the one I currently live, good sense is a scarce resource and ignorance is a bumper crop.

I also felt hope. Hope for a good turnout. Hope for stupidity and hate to take the morning off. And hope for the sun to hide behind a few clouds and give us a break from the summer heat.

My first hope turned briefly into frustration as we joined the shit show that is Nashville traffic. But all those cars meant thousands of people lining up on Broadway to march. I can honestly say I wasn’t ready. So many people smiling, laughing, and being their authentic selves. My disappointment soon turned to relief because it really was a celebration. And I felt honored again, and humbled to be able to celebrate with Jake, their team, and so many others.

I also felt relief because, for the most part, stupidity did take the morning off. The only exception was the jackassery of the construction crew under the big bridge. I get we need a lot more buildings downtown (that dripping you hear is sarcasm... I’ll send you a towel), but were they so crunched for time that they couldn’t take a few hours off to join the parade? Or just sit around, have a snack, and watch. We live in a time when idiocy and violence too often have a pulpit and a microphone, so I admit the jackhammer was a bit jarring. Even scary for a moment. Thankfully, it quickly passed and we were on our way.

Marching itself was overwhelming at times. The crisp cool breeze coming off the crystal clear waters of the Cumberland... who am I kidding? None of that’s true. The Cumberland is brown. Green on a good day. Plus, it was summer in Nashville, so there was no breeze to speak of. And even if there was, it would’ve felt like a steaming, wet blanket. Because it was fucking hot. But I guess two hopes out of three ain’t bad.

I’m a devout people watcher, and my senses were in overdrive from the moment we arrived. As much as I tried to take it all in—the looks on people’s faces, the signs, their words, their clothes, their body language—my eyes kept finding their way back to Jake. Standing strong and tall. Well, as tall as we get in our family. Leading their team with purpose. It was one of those moments you soak in and keep with you. The kind you play back when you’re having a bad day. Because they fill you with... well, pride.

 Cheers.