Pride

At 83, Margaret Sullivan moved a little slower than she used to, but she was still as spry as anyone half her age.

She pulled out her folding card table with a hole she cut in the center and placed it in the back of her van. Beside it, she slid in a colorful beach umbrella and weighed base. Next came her favorite lawn chair and a few extras for guests.

She placed three cases of water in the back of the van and an empty cooler. She reminded herself to stop for ice on the way. She checked her watch. She still had four hours. Right on time.

She pulled over a large plastic bin, popped the lid, took a quick peek and put the lid back on. She hoisted it into the back of the van. She dug through a couple of grocery bags until she pulled out two bags of Tootsie Roll Pops and tossed them in the van. What else, she thought? Just the ice.

* * *

With her van backed into her usual spot, she set up her table, put up the umbrella and secured it in the base below the table. The chairs were out, the water on ice and a bowl held the suckers. She dragged the plastic tub before her chair and began pulling out various items.

She grinned widely as she found a colorful tie-dyed shirt. She hopped over the tub and ducked into the van to change. Donning the oversized shirt above her shorts, she returned to the tub. She pulled on a curly colorful wig, set aside a huge pair of sunglasses and began unfurling two small flags. She put on a pair of colorful dangly earrings and a set of bracelets full of tiny bells. Out of the tub came a few noise makers including an old cow bell that she set on the table. After a final perusing of the tub, she closed the lid and returned it to the van.

The pride parade had begun with motorcycle policemen from San Francisco leading the way. The whooping of the sirens announcing their arrival and exciting the crowd.

Marco and Jerome were sitting on newspaper boxes across the street from Margaret.

"Oh my gawd, look at that old dyke over there with the goofy wig waving the flags," says Marco, pointing at Margaret. He laughed and shook his head.

"That is not an old dyke, you idiot. You really don't know who that is?" asked Jerome.

"No, why should I? I don't hang out in that circle," said Marco. He smiled, waved and threw kisses at the cute guys.

"That is Dr. Margaret Sullivan. The Chronicle just did a big spread on her. Back in the eighties, her son was living in San Francisco and contracted HIV. He was receiving a blood product that was positive before they knew how to test for it. He was straight but no one would believe him.

"Dr. Sullivan had a successful practice bringing babies into the world. Her son called her because he could not get the medical community to see anything but a faggot that brought this disease on himself. Within a year, he was dead.

"She closed her practice in Phoenix and moved to San Francisco and began working with researchers to find a cure. She is credited for a bunch of technical things that are way above my head but she convinced the drug companies to try combining different medications into one pill, which is now the standard.

"She supports the LGBT community because she says that she never thought the medical community would collectively discriminate against a group of dying people with a contagious disease because of who they loved.

"She is an awesome lady. You know, she worked for free for a long time."

Margaret looked over at Jerome and waved.

"So every year, she's in the same spot handing out water and suckers to the kids. She says the more outlandish she is, the more the media will take pictures of her and talk about this deadly disease.

"Let's go say hi."

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Writer's Cramp Prompt 6/25

There are football, baseball, basketball, and soccer fans (etc.) who wave banners, buy bumper stickers, and wear tee shirts proclaiming their favorite teams.

Write a poem or story about someone who’s a fan of something NOT sports related and SHOW how that person flaunts his/her enthusiasm.

Word count: 690