I find myself being able to celebrate another Pride Month. This one seems different, as I’m now 60 years old and still find myself surprised that I have made it this far.

Between my alcoholism (now sober for 40 years) and being a young, gay, sexually active human in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, during years when tens of thousands of other gay men were dying, I didn’t think then that I would make it to today.

I look outside to our Pride flag flying in the wind, for all of our neighbors and those walking by to see. This year, my husband and I talked about whether to put the flag up.

The last two years we increasingly received people’s opinions about the flag, usually shared with awful words of hate and bigotry. We talked about what this would be like for those who don’t live 30 minutes from downtown Los Angeles. Those LGBTQ+ siblings who live in communities of Christian Nationalists and others whose purpose on earth seems to be to impose their beliefs on everyone, whether it’s a small town or an entire state.

I also think of others who constantly live in fear.

At 60, I think of anti-gay violence more than I have in the past. I’m not sure if it’s because of the times we live in, or the reality that there are few places left that are safe for gay people. The two places that come to mind are Palm Springs, California, and most places in Ireland. I’m sure there are more places as well.

It’s Pride Month.

Aside from our flag being up and attending West Hollywood Pride last weekend, this month is similar to most other months for us. I find myself saying “Happy Pride” to anyone who shares about Pride on their socials. Other than that, our lives are the same as when it’s not Pride.

Pride is more of a reminder for me. I remember being panicked about coming out to my family. I remember the daily, excruciating thoughts of someone in the Navy finding out who I really was; what I really was. With these memories, I know now that the fears I had were similar to the fears that many others, including non-gay people, and they became themselves and started to figure out who they were in this world. Just like me.

I was getting ready for the gym and tossed on my Pride flag tee. I’m not one who spends a lot of time getting dressed, especially when it comes to the gym.

I soon arrived at the gym without that shirt on. I decided not to wear it as my gym is a little conservative, if that can be said of a gym. I’m sure others make a quick change before they walk out of the house, maybe for different reasons.

 

My gym, like my town, and many of my social circles, does not celebrate Pride. There are probably more at my gym who would be among those who speak ill of Pride. There are also a significant more numbers of people in their thirties and forties in my gym than those who are 60 and older. Neither one bothers me.

The gym is part fitness and part social for me. I work from home, and I love socializing at the gym, also being sure to not take too much of someone’s time, especially those who are there to work out and get on with their day.

My fitness routine isn’t just for my physical health, but also my mental health.

Pride at 60 is also filled with all those who I was fortunate to have in my life for a time, many for too brief a time. My twenties were filled with losing people I loved to HIV/AIDS, with times of crying so hard I could barely breathe. The agony of loss would be followed by deep gratitude for having had that person in my life. We all go through loss, and at 60 most of us have lost someone we love who wasn’t blood family. Most of my loss just came earlier in life.

Speaking of gratitude, aside from just being alive and sober, my list of things I’m grateful for seems endless.

As I didn’t expect to live this long, I certainly didn’t expect to fall so deeply in love with a man that I would want to marry him. Nor did I ever think that I would be able to marry him. And here I am with my husband of 21 years, our two adopted dogs, and a life beyond my wildest expectations.

Whether you celebrate or not, Happy Pride.

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Go vegan. Vote. Be kind.