From Death to Pride

In the early 1980s, I was a very inexperienced and untested gay man. My work as a hospital chaplain led me to conduct funeral services for a number of families that I didn't know very well. So I came to be familiar with funeral homes and funeral home directors. My favorite funeral home director was a man, originally from Oklahoma, who dressed well and spoke very nicely. Darryl was about 10 years older than I and came from poor beginnings. He was not the first Oklahoman to come to California seeking a better life. My grandmother had done the same thing 60 years earlier. Darryl was good at his job, and knew what information I needed to do mine. So, we got along well and I respected his professional assistance.
One day in the middle of June, Daryl asked me if I would like to come to the Los Angeles Gay Pride Parade with him and his partner. I’d never been to a gay pride parade before. I wondered how he knew I was gay. Obviously, I’d never heard of gaydar. With some trepidation I said, “sure”.

It was a bright, warm June day when I showed up at his three-bedroom home in North Hollywood. His partner, Bob, was a tidy looking brown-haired man, also from Oklahoma. I learned they had been together for 15 years and had built a community of friends in the San Fernando Valley. Their small home was tastefully appointed, (wouldn’t you know), and their yard was carefully trimmed and verdant. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was surprised to discover their scene was so domestic and middle-class.
We made our way to the parade site in West Hollywood, merging with hundreds of men and women, to stand along the sidewalk four and five deep. On this warm, sunny day I smiled to discover I was surrounded by scores of gorgeous, shirtless men. Had the parade never happened; I still would have been happy.

But the parade did happen, and it was great! The Gay men’s chorus singing. The Hollywood cheerleaders cheering. And floats with scantily clad men and women, dancing with abandon. I’d been to a lot of parades in my life, but never one like that.
Today, as I look back 25 years, I'm grateful to Daryl and Bob for gently introducing me to the larger gay community. In retrospect, I'm aware how innocent and gleeful that parade was. There was no awareness of AIDS; there was no specter of death hanging over the revelry- aside from the fact that I was standing next to a mortician.