Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar

My family moved from Charleston, SC to Washington, D.C. when I was 4 years old. My brother was 2 years old at the time. Coming from a midsized southern city, we hadn’t really experienced much in alternative lifestyles and my mother and father had never really felt a need to explain them to us since we were so young. Needless to say we (she) were (was) ill prepared for that day we picked my father up from his office on Constitution Ave.

Capital Pride is the 4^th largest gay pride event held in the United States today. In 1986 it celebrated its 11^th anniversary. Apparently my mom was not aware. In order to get to the place where she normally picked up my dad from work she had to cross on 14^th over Constitution Ave. Had she looked to the right as she was crossing the street she would have noticed the gigantic rainbow balloon arch, but she didn’t. She had got to the area that they were going to have the parade before they had started blocking off the streets, so she really didn’t notice that there was anything out of the ordinary going on. When she got to where she normally met my father, she couldn’t find him. So she had to park the car to find him.

Now this is the part that makes me laugh my ass off every time. Apparently when my mom went in search of my father, with 5 year old, Kat and 3 year old brother in tow she somehow managed to become part of the Capital Pride Parade. The ever inquisitive children we were we kept asking her questions that she hadn’t exactly planned on answering that day. “Hey, Mom, why are those guys holding hands?” “Hey, Mom, why are those girls kissing?” I bet she couldn’t find my dad fast enough. Anyways, my mom made family history that day, being the first to march in a gay pride parade by accident.

Later on while living in D.C. we lived above a tranny, his sister, and her son. The boy that lived in the apartment was really good friends with my brother and we naturally became good friends with the family. Uncle J actually taught me how to do make up when I was about 11 years old. He was awesome and prettier than his sister.

Thank you, Heinous for jogging my memory and spurring me to call my Mom in order to recall the exact circumstances of her march on Washington. Oh and thanks Mom for the blog fodder..hehehe. She might just kick my ass guys, watch out for that one she is wiry.