I was lecturing a few of my boy-toy friends yesterday about how fortunate they are to be of the generation they are (they are in their 20s and 30s) because when I was their age a lot of my friends were getting sick or dying. There was a point in the late 80s and early 90s that I developed an aversion to a ringing phone. It seemed like every day there was more bad news, more people I knew getting sick then finding out they were positive, then they quickly got sicker, and at the time, it meant death, certain, swift and agonizing. It was a terrible dark time. Being a theatre person I think I was more tuned in to what was happening than my straight non-art-ish friends. It was very isolating in a way too -- like living through a terrible, roaring plague while most of the population seemed to ignore it as they blithely went about their lives. It was surreal.
Anyway, enough of that. The Pride Promenade in my town gets bigger every year and this year, like last year, was the best ever (so far). It made me smile until my face hurt. It was a good day to be in the world.
1 comment:
Though I'm older than you, you sweet young thing, I too remember the dark days. Many, many of my friends, including some life-long partners in crime, succumbed to the plague.
Now I can revel in the marriages and civil unions of those who came through unscathed. Cheers!
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