Summer 2025 was not at all what I had expected, but the events in recent months have given me much needed hope in the dark morass that passes for reality nowadays.
The story begins with Pride. Each year I am doubly blessed in being able to attend two LGBTQ+ celebrations I had a hand in creating: St Pete Pride, Florida’s largest and its enthusiastic — albeit smaller — version in Gulfport.
This year was no different. While “summer” in Florida can be just about any time of the year, my real summer usually begins with Gulfport Pride followed by Gulfport’s July 4th celebration, then St Pete Pride itself as the grand finale to this season’s finest events.
None of that happened for me this year. Yet somehow the absence of these events in my life turned into one of the best summers ever for me.
First, imagine a colorful and vocal crowd celebrating Pride in a funky, homespun way. That’s Gulfport.
One of the joys of living in a small town is you can walk virtually everywhere. This year my canine soulmate Joy and I walked downtown to the celebration from my apartment right on Beach Blvd.
My dog and I were having the time of our lives and were lively participants in the do-dah stumble that is the “Friends of Dorothy” march. We were marching right behind the fan favorite Amalgamated Gulfport Marching Band and singing along with the rest of the crowd as the band debuted their new song “Sweet Car-o-line” (bum bum bum).
I had just done my best Julie Andrews imitation and twirled around in the middle of an intersection singing “Good Times Never Felt so Good” when I took two more steps, tripped and fell. I broke my right hip, right there in the middle of the Gulfport Pride parade.
In less than an instant I had at least a dozen bystanders, none of whom I knew or will probably ever see again, all focused on helping me.
One guy called the paramedics; another found a First Aid kit and my neighbor who was at the event managed to convince a street marshal that he had to get his truck to me since I was unable to walk at that point.
That same neighbor got me to the hospital and took care of Joy while I was “enjoying” hip replacement surgery for four days.
As an aside, when I got home I had about a half dozen notes from numerous neighbors telling me they had taken Joy for a walk or just stopped in to give her a treat.
It really touched my heart that my neighbors cared about Joy so much. Yet another amazing thing about Gulfport is that when the chips are down not only do we take care of each other, we take care of our fur babies too.
The love I felt from my community helping me continued full force at Palms of Pasadena Hospital, where I would characterize my level of care as stellar. The level of personalized attention by the nursing staff made my stay as comfortable as possible, all things considered.
Nurses got me saline solution for my contacts (shhh, it snuck up on me), adhesive for my dentures and even put up with my ridiculous level of being “pee shy” when it comes to going when you can’t get up.
Surgery brought more caring experiences. Coming out of the anesthesia I had a really bad reaction. I woke up in a complete psychotic break, not even knowing my name, absolutely terrified and apparently belligerent enough that I ripped the IVs out.
There was an incredibly kind middle-aged guy who calmly talked me out of it. I never knew his name but his ability to bring me back to reality from genuine psychosis was a real gift.
One thing they don’t tell you about an injury like this is that you are going to have a lot of follow-up appointments — which aren’t easy to get to when you can’t drive. Since it was my right leg, driving took some time. I wasn’t behind the wheel again for almost eight weeks.
When you need rides for everything you start placing cautious calls to those who you think can help. Both my AA sponsor and several members of my Quaker family all stepped forward without hesitation. Fortunately, with each of them we snuck in a lunch where I could at least thank them with a meal.
I know the world sucks right now. You can’t even go to church without running into someone wearing a red hat, and they are literally painting over our values. It may seem like no one cares any more.
I wish it hadn’t taken an injury to prove it to me, but the Summer of 2025 has shown me that despite common misconceptions, love continues to pour forth unabated all around us. I hope you don’t have to reach out for help like I did, but you may be very pleasantly surprised at the outcome if you do!
Greg Stemm is a longtime resident of Pinellas County and a founder of St Pete Pride. He is an outspoken activist on many issues, including HIV/AIDS education.
