The in box. Pride, not prejudice.

From a reader:

Great
Expectations
of the Human Race.
We have done so much
for so long with so little.
We are now qualified
to achieve the impossible
With absolutely
Nothing.

-Marcus L. Greene

Marcus is an older gentleman who marched in the Pride Parade on Sunday. He sold me ten illustrated poems, photocopied and stapled together. His poetry is indicative of the gorgeous, joyous & meaningful Sunday that was the 43rd Annual Pride Parade.

I had come down to march with the CTU, fully decked out in the shirt I call my Fred shirt (a red shirt – designed by Fred, which says “My Pension. I Paid. You Promised–Region 36 IEA.” Worn on Springfield trip May 2nd.) over a red dress. Since I was a bit late, I bolted over the street barrier (some nice people gave me a boost after I told them, “I’m trying to catch up with the teachers!”) at Irving Park.

It seemed that the CTU was given a more forward spot. It was about 12:20 and I had already missed them. As I ran down the middle, some in the crowd asked to see what my shirt said. It was encouraging that the inquiring spectators clapped, gave me a thumbs up and said, “You go, girl!”

When I finally caught up to the CTU, I was warmly welcomed and I congratulated each person who was marching. Don’t ask me to guesstimate the number…bad at that. The CTU must have it on their website.

As we marched to the end – Diversey – people continually screamed and cheered. Not one boo or discouraging word was heard from the spectators. However, the small protest group was there, at the end (with about 10 Chicago Policemen around them), with signs deriding the lifestyle, and group members yelling out, “Sinners! Disciples of Satan!” In fact, one held a sign that said something like,  “Public schools are the devil’s tools!”

Marchers simply waved at them and smiled, displaying no visible reaction. Interestingly enough, other parade marchers had saved beads for the protesters. Most were bereft of their beads by the parade’s end}, so merely smiled and gifted their antagonists with the sought-after trinkets.

 While I look forward to the Pride Parade every year, and do not attend any others in the city or the suburbs, I was especially honored to meet the teachers and their students. Yes, many students marched and held signs such as ,”You can read this because of a teacher!” and “I love my teachers!”

Mostly high school students, they were happy to march, but they weren’t silly about it – they appeared to be purposeful, with an extraordinary aura of maturity. I shook hands with Karen Lewis.  In congratulating teachers and stating that I was envious of their leadership, one teacher replied, “It’s the members.”

Yes, it was the members who voted for Karen Lewis. It was the members who showed up.

Finally, I wished everyone good luck. To a person–the phraseology might have differed with each person–I was told,   “We will win.”  “We will prevail.”

It was exhilarating.

Footnote: The el stop at Belmont is, traditionally, the most crowded after the parade, so to put some time between the end and having to push through the crowds that snake down the block from the station entrance, I decided to eat dinner at Ann Sather.

For those of you who don’t know, Ann Sather is a Chicago fixture, a Swedish restaurant that is known for its incredible cinnamon rolls (but I love everything else there just as much). The vegetable soup has real vegetables in it -I mean, where else would you see broccoli crowns & substantial pieces of cauliflower heads? They serve creamed peas, tender salmon with dill sauce, real mashed potatoes (real, but not lumpy!), tender meatballs & noodles and thin, delicious lingonberry pancakes.

Alderman Tom Tunney owns Ann Sather and–by golly!–on this day, he was busing and serving. He’d been in the parade earlier in the day and obviously  came in to work so his employees could enjoy the day. It was near closing time, but an older gentleman came in, said he’d been in the parade, was diabetic, exhausted, and could he please have a glass of water? Ald. Tunney got him his water and a cinnamon roll, as well, as the man had expressed his hunger. Additionally, Ald. Tunney served the gentleman a meatball meal, gratis.

Upon leaving, I thanked my waitress, who’d been working there for twenty-seven years (we expressed some recognition of one another–I used to live in Lakeview, and had many a meal there with friends & family).

“You have a really nice boss,” I told her.

“I know,” she said, and smiled, locking the door behind me.