Get Up, Get Out And Be A Part Of It Messy But Worth It We Deserve Bloomsday. We Need It.

The men sitting on the couch on the front porch in Browne’s Addition were drinking beer and making “woo woo” noises at pretty women walking by. It was 9:30 in the morning during a recent Bloomsday.

The men saw runners with tight bodies and they saw unfit walkers wiping their brows and wondering why they were there in the first place. The men saw children in strollers and older folks in wheelchairs. They saw runners in $150 Nikes and one woman walking in high heels.

It was community on parade. Pride on parade. It was the mingling of those who might not normally mingle - ever - in their daily lives.

So what if people talk of Bloomsday ad nauseam leading up to it? So what if they boast about their training, and discuss, in excruciating detail, the pasta they’ll eat the night before? So what if the media report the event to death? So what if some proud Bloomsday survivors wear their T-shirts to work the week after?

We deserve Bloomsday. We need it. If the Bloomsday fever seems excessive to those who don’t participate, well, too bad. Bloomsday is good for individual and communal health. Those who decry Bloomsday are just ‘90s versions of Scrooge. Bah, humbug.

Think of all the ways in modern life we can shield ourselves from others. We can drive to work alone in our cars. Be cordial, but distant, to co-workers. Live in neighborhoods surrounded by our own kind. Pick a church where we all believe the same. Never volunteer for anything because we’re tired, we’re busy, we’re stressed. Turn on the television. Tune out.

Bloomsday is a messy affair. The weather doesn’t always cooperate. Some of the participants are rude. Beer drinking folks might yell at you from the sidelines. Chances are good some stranger (or friend) will disappoint, irritate or make you angry at least once during the race.

Community, though a fine and noble-sounding word, is messy and imperfect, too. So the lesson of Bloomsday is this: We need to come together on occasion and do something that’s pretty darn cool. We don’t have to agree with one another, like or love each other or even lay eyes on each other until next Bloomsday. We just need to walk or run or stroll side by side for 7.4 miles.

Let the celebration begin.

, DataTimes MEMO: For opposing view, see headline “Madness shared is still madness”

The following fields overflowed: SUPCAT = COLUMN, EDITORIAL - From both sides CREDIT = Rebecca Nappi For the editorial board