Saturday was a really UP day for me. About a week ago, we got notice that Brockville, a small town about an hour away from here, was going to have their first pride walk, and so I went.
I had good company on the ride, someone I know from PFLAG Ottawa, and we made a plan to leave early so that we could get parking near the starting site, as well as find a place to have lunch. We were successful at both.
The event was planned and promoted by a high school group, but attended by a very diverse and large crowd from Brockville, Prescott, Ottawa, Cornwall, Kingston and places in between.
What was wonderful about it was the enthusiasm, the joy and the energy present all around us as we waited to head out on the walk. We'd been told that the City had restricted the walk to the sidewalk of a main street, but I think there must have been a change of plan when someone realized how many people were there for the event, so the road was blocked off, which in itself was sort of thrilling. There were lots of people watching---most clapping or showing support, some looking a little dazed or puzzled. I heard no disrespect or derogatory remarks. This is the article published locally on Sunday.
The end of the parade, when all the walkers were in, many hugging, others jumping and waving banners and flags, and the police car was leaving, with waves and bleats of the siren, was perfect. It was perfect, except that my sparkly sneakers had let me down and left abrasions on my heels .
Not only did I have to tend to them when I got home, but I had to confess to Dave that I'd made a bad shoe choice after haughtily informing him, when he reminded me to think about what I was wearing on my feet, that really I didn't need him to check up on me. I had already chosen my shoes.
I was just wrong. But, and this is important, heels heal, but sparkles are forever.