The calamity is that I am writing this in the BA lounge at Kennedy. I'm back off to London again; it's less frequent than we thought might be necessary when we moved here but still a little too often and consequently we are missing New York Pride together as a family.
Still, I did get some of the day at least and saw a good bit of the march. I know I'm going to gush here so look away now if that is not what you want to hear.
I have been to lots of Prides in London and never been hugely taken with them. It's my problem, not London Pride but as a (fiscally) right-wing gay man with children I have never really felt part of the team.
New York was always going to be special because of the marriage vote. Cuomo got a hero's reception on 5th avenue and he deserves it. A GOP controlled senate approved civil rights for gays and it would never have happened without him. It was his day in the sun but there was plenty of heat and light for everyone.
Marching bands, floats, dancers; you can do it all here without needing irony. The sight of the NYPD band marching with rainbow flags and playing YMCA was a thing of pure beauty. Another of the bands gave us a bridal march and there were not a few people advertising to the world how long they had been together and naming the date for their civil marriage at last.
Old people, young people, muscle-bound jocks, flabby weaklings, bare-chested lesbians, dancing queens and many people who thought they were insignificant but rolled together into a giant ball of happiness.
And then there is my family. My husband and I have been together, officially since December 2001 (accuracy matters to us). It's not as long as the wonderful stories you read about people on the verge of marriage after sixty years, but still not bad. We are like most married couples I guess - bickering and disagreeing about most things is our forte. We are just like everyone else and like no one else. My thanks to Governor Cuomo for understanding this and making it understood.
The best bit of all was Harriet. She was wearing a fabulous outfit (J confessed how much it had cost because he thought even I couldn't fail to notice how beautiful and beautifully made it was). Better than designer clobber though was a two dollar pride flag that she waved all along fifth avenue.
Thank you Harriet, thank you J and thank you New York.
Still, I did get some of the day at least and saw a good bit of the march. I know I'm going to gush here so look away now if that is not what you want to hear.
I have been to lots of Prides in London and never been hugely taken with them. It's my problem, not London Pride but as a (fiscally) right-wing gay man with children I have never really felt part of the team.
New York was always going to be special because of the marriage vote. Cuomo got a hero's reception on 5th avenue and he deserves it. A GOP controlled senate approved civil rights for gays and it would never have happened without him. It was his day in the sun but there was plenty of heat and light for everyone.
Marching bands, floats, dancers; you can do it all here without needing irony. The sight of the NYPD band marching with rainbow flags and playing YMCA was a thing of pure beauty. Another of the bands gave us a bridal march and there were not a few people advertising to the world how long they had been together and naming the date for their civil marriage at last.
Old people, young people, muscle-bound jocks, flabby weaklings, bare-chested lesbians, dancing queens and many people who thought they were insignificant but rolled together into a giant ball of happiness.
And then there is my family. My husband and I have been together, officially since December 2001 (accuracy matters to us). It's not as long as the wonderful stories you read about people on the verge of marriage after sixty years, but still not bad. We are like most married couples I guess - bickering and disagreeing about most things is our forte. We are just like everyone else and like no one else. My thanks to Governor Cuomo for understanding this and making it understood.
The best bit of all was Harriet. She was wearing a fabulous outfit (J confessed how much it had cost because he thought even I couldn't fail to notice how beautiful and beautifully made it was). Better than designer clobber though was a two dollar pride flag that she waved all along fifth avenue.
Thank you Harriet, thank you J and thank you New York.
