I went to a parade today, a festival, a celebration.  It was a big, community affair.  Mothers, like the two below pushing their son... were smiling, glad, proud. 

Before the parade got underway, I rode my bike along among the floats and the people; and I thought how amazing it is that these people get it, and a whole bunch of others don't.  Among those who don't get it is the mayor of our city.  He didn't show.  He wasn't riding in the car that was supposed to carry him.

Like so many other classic stories, especially the ones that come down to us from more than two thousand years ago in Ancient Greece, the mayor's story is about pride... not the kind of pride expressed in San Diego this weekend where people with good humor and dignity come out together into the world to celebrate their selfhood with no intention of hurting anybody.  His kind of pride was called by another name,  hubris... excessive pride wrapped around inflated self confidence and self interest not carefully controlled, the kind of self confidence that blunders around causing pain to other people.

Look at some of the pictures I got today. I was careful to ask permission for the close-up portraits.  These are people laughing together, enjoying each other's company,  celebrating... They are happy.

And then there are the hateful few below who show up every year on this day of celebration... pitiful, sad souls claiming all the rest of us are, as one of their signs said, "worthy of death."  Wow!  Their tragedy is also the result of the very most excessive sort of pride. They claim to know the mind of God.  The guy on the left in the photo below is wearing a shirt that proclaims, "Jesus Hates Sin." Another smaller sign on the ground said, "God Hates Fags." 

 Careful not to let my self confidence approach anything like hubris, I rode along proudly wearing a button my Canadian friend Danielle send to me this week for this occasion.