God's beloved: you, me, everyone
In 1978, to help pay my way through college, I had a job as a waitress. One of my friends at the restaurant was a striking woman - tall, with tattoos and piercings that were unusual for 1978, her hair cut and dyed in a kind of punkish style that became popular years later. She and I spent a fair amount of time together. Eventually she told me that she was going to move to the east coast and asked me if I could store her things until she got settled and could come back for them. My friend was a lesbian and she yearned to live in a community where she could be herself, without prejudice and fear of repercussions. A few months after she left, she returned and got her stuff and moved away for good. I’ve never seen again, but I hope that she found the life she longed for. A few years later I lived in a different Chicago neighborhood, off of Broadway and Belmont, a an area with a high population of gay and lesbian people. I remember some of the first gay pride parades streaming down ...