The other day I was driving through Hillcrest on my twice daily journey to and from the kids School on Maple Street, when I looked up and saw those wonderful rainbow banners placed on just about every light post in Hillcrest. When I see those banners I am immediately flooded with many memories of the 24 Pride celebrations, here in San Diego, that I have personally been a part of. To start with, I’m daydreaming of my first Pride, when I carried the banner for The San Diego Police Department contingent. I was so proud, young and, I’ll admit it, kind of hot! Anyway, as I was carrying that banner I felt as if there was no one else in that parade. Yes, it was all me! All those people lining the parade route, cheering, screaming and clapping. Wow, what a powerful experience for a newly out young man, to see the power of Pride first hand, from the middle of the parade.

There were many, many more Prides to come, many of which I can’t remember. There was a time when Pride was a three day event for me. My friends gathering each day to start with mimosas at Frenchy Marseilles or brunch in the Crown Room at the fabulous Hotel del Coronado. The parties never stopped. I loved the attention. Every young gay person does. I basked in the once a year excuse we had to drink for 3 days straight! Yes, those were great fun days and I am suddenly reminded of the Pride weekend that I, well, finally lost my virginity.

It’s right then that my daughter screams “Daddy!! Make him stop picking his nose with my finger!!!”

I am immediately brought back to present day. Just like on TV, when the parents are dreaming of something great and suddenly they hear the screech of tires as they are brought back to reality.

“Stop picking your nose with her finger!” I tell him, without even asking how that was possible. I remind him that his sister surely has cooties, and when placed in the nose of a boy it makes us dumb. I get the rug rats out of the van and off to school. On the way home I can’t help but feel a little sad.

Yes, now I’m 42 and have gained a few pounds, a few wrinkles and a whole lot of gray hair. Pride for me no longer includes 3 day parties, zoo dances, and expensive brunches and waking up somewhere you don’t remember going. No more naked chicken fights in the pool, cocktails at Bourbon Street or even looking at all the pretty boys at Nigel’s Place (Flicks). For me and my family Pride has become an important weekend to help us teach our children about whom Mark and I are, as well as a little history, so they know and understand about the older people and founders of the Pride movement, before it was a party. We also want them to be proud of themselves and our family.

We pack up the kids, which trust me is NOT an easy task, and schlep them all to the parade route, where we carefully watch the parade go by. Yes, we do a lot of explaining about people who are different to us and, believe me, there are a lot of people at Pride that are different to us! After the parade we usually get something to eat and head to the Pride festival.

One of my most meaningful parental experiences culminated at the Pride festival 4 years ago. You see, we had just adopted our first child. He was 7 at the time and it was almost Christmas. We went to Mission Valley Mall with our son who had NEVER seen or sat on Santa’s Lap. I had tears in my eyes as I told the Mall Santa that our son was adopted, had been terribly abused and had never been to see Santa. He took time with our son, memorized David’s name and even his request for a 16 inch bike with training wheels, (since he had never been on a bike). That Santa never said much to us as parents but, he did make up for the seven Santa’s that had been missed. We went on our way and Christmas came and went.

That summer we were at Pride, when a very nice man saw us together and, when our son was getting food, he approached and told us that he was that Mall Santa and that he remembered David and his story. He was very glad that David had got the Bike he had promised and I wanted to know why I had to put it together. He was so touched that he wanted us to know that it was him and that he would always remember David and his 2 dads. Each Christmas since then, we have gone looking at the Mall Santa’s and so far have been unable to locate this great man. For us now, we seem to spend our Pride at the children’s garden. Most of you will walk right past the children’s garden without a second look. For us as parents, it’s a wonderful place to take our children, so they can play games, sing songs, win prizes, do crafts and be a part of the important celebration.

I am gay, a partner and a father of a very proud family. Have a happy and safe Pride this year and be sure to stop by the Family Matters children’s garden and say hello! We would love to see you there, and if you know my Santa, please let him know we have four more beautiful kids for him to meet!