Editor's note: The Blog would like to thank Glen Iris Lofts homeowner Steven Sharp (Ph II, Unit 501) for submitting the following post. If you would like to guest author a post on the Blog, simply let us know via e-mail.
I
remember my first gay pride parade in Atlanta. I had spent the night at, let's just call
him, a friend's place. I lay in bed after a night of not much
sleep. Get your minds out of the gutter,
people... I am a chronic insomniac :-)
I remember that morning well. His small 1920s apartment with the worn, faded hardwood floors and large crown moldings and baseboards, was in one of those older brick apartment buildings close to Piedmont Park, when they still had older brick apartment buildings close to Piedmont Park. The bedroom was flooded with too much sunlight, too much brightness on that Sunday morning in June so many years ago.
I remember that morning well. His small 1920s apartment with the worn, faded hardwood floors and large crown moldings and baseboards, was in one of those older brick apartment buildings close to Piedmont Park, when they still had older brick apartment buildings close to Piedmont Park. The bedroom was flooded with too much sunlight, too much brightness on that Sunday morning in June so many years ago.
"Get
out of bed!" he said to me, a cross somewhere between a request and an
order.
"I
don't feel like it," I said.
"It’s an important day," he responded.
"Why
is that?" I asked.
"It's
gay pride."
"I'm
not marching, and I wasn't planning on going."
"Parades
don't just happen," he explained to me.
"There's a lot that goes into them."
He
continued, "The ones who are brave enough and take the time to march are
just a very small part of what makes a parade a success."
"Imagine
a parade with only floats and people marching with not a single spectator, no
applause, no friends congregating along the route as the parade passes them
by. It would be a much different
experience than what Atlanta's gay pride is with over 300,000 spectators and bystanders
who traverse Piedmont Park gay pride weekend."
"I
guess I never thought about it that way," as I threw my legs onto the
floor, smoothed out my hair and realized that the only thing I knew about gay
pride was what I had seen on the six o'clock news.
I still
wasn't sure if I was going to go to the parade on that way-too-bright day for
someone with a pounding headache, but my head was certainly filled with racing
thoughts.
When I asked
if I could submit a post to the Glen Iris Blog, all I could think about was our
amazing gay pride parade - not the one as it actually is, but one with only
people marching, no crowds on the sidewalks spilling onto tenth street, no cat
calls, no cheers, no applause, just an emptiness along the parade route. I imagine the looks on the faces of those who
are marching compared to their expressions when the streets are packed, and I
realize that the residents of Glen Iris Lofts are very much like I was all
those years ago. Not aware that they are an integral part of the parade, that their voices are needed,
that the Blog needs comments, it needs cheers and it needs more people posting
comments to help it thrive and keep those who write it motivated.
Make an
effort to get involved with the things that affect your life. Leave a comment,
post a reply. With everyone's input,
comments and energy, Glen Iris Lofts will become a place where everyone has a voice;
everyone has an opinion that is valued, where everyone has the same rights and
opportunities as their neighbors.
