It’s a beautiful day in Toronto. Though it’s a little bit overcast, it is still warm and bright. It’s an almost perfect day to take in a ballgame. And, in fact, that was my plan. Once or twice a season I like to take my son down to the Rogers Center to watch the Bluejays play and today seemed ideal. The weather is great, so the roof of the stadium should be open, and yet we won’t have to worry about baking and burning in the hot summer sun. The Jays’ ace, Roy Halladay, is on the hill so the game is almost guaranteed to move along quickly and there is a very good chance that Toronto will win. The game starts at 4:00 rather than the usual 1:00, allowing us time to do our Saturday chores before we head to the game.
Just as I was going to announce this plan to my son, I suddenly remembered that there is more than baseball happening downtown this weekend. This is the weekend of Toronto’s “Pride” week, a week long celebration of homosexuality, bisexuality, transgenderism and the like. The week culminates in a “Dyke March” today and the “Pride Parade” on Sunday. Official statistics proclaim that over a million people take in these events, though those in the know seem to indicate this is greatly over-stating the truth. Regardless, the fact is that this weekend parts of the downtown core of Toronto are dedicated to celebrating homosexuality. Whole blocks have been barricaded and celebrations are happening throughout the area.
It seems to me that it would be pretty irresponsible to take my son downtown this weekend. The stadium is a few blocks from the epicenter of the Pride celebrations, but there is sure to be revelry far beyond those boundaries. Just yesterday, my friend Ian went shopping and posted this on his blog: “I was first tipped off that something was different because there was a patio set-up in front of the store for eating, making it have the appearance of a restaurant. As of yet, I have no idea why that was set-up. There were a number of people milling about, and amongst the crowd was this man in full regalia. I really couldn’t say who he thought he was, but he sure didn’t think he was of the male gender! Fish-net stockings, a bright and shiny super-hero costume, more make-up than Tammy Faye, he was easy to pick out of the crowd. In particular because he was easy 6 ft. tall with a stocky build. With him was another man, this one less super-hero, more hooker. They made quite a pair, standing amidst a crowd of people who were trying to act as if nothing abnormal were going on.”
You see, I just don’t know that I’d like my six-year old to have to see this. And what’s more, I don’t think my son should have to see this. Like Ian, I don’t react with disgust to men like this. Nor do I respond with acceptance. I pity them, though, and hope that God extends His grace to them as He has seen fit to do with me. This exhibition of depravity is but a reminder of my own depravity. But a young boy does not need such vivid reminders. Not like this.
And so my son and I will stay home today and perhaps take in the game on television. And we’ll wait for another weekend when we can have our city back.