The passage of time, and passing of a friend, provided a great lesson in 2008
In one of our earliest conversations, William, an actor friend had said, “I thought I’d have my own sitcom by now.”
He had been like so many of us, those with a regular 9-to-5 to support their artistic ambitions. I could count many: The poet who sold insurance. The graphic artist who worked in an art supply store. The dancer who did publications. The painter who worked in a restaurant. And William who served as an office manager at a non-profit.
Time seemed infintite, and stretched on and on, as if we were all looking at the vastness of the sea or lost, wandering in the Sahara. It seemed like there would always be time to do those things, to make the money and complete the projects we were always dreaming about completing that never made it beyond A GREAT IDEA (My retelling of Theodore Dreiser’s Sister Carrie, titled "Carrie!," is on permanent hiatus). Seemed that there was so much time we didn’t even wear watches. Seemed that we could stay out all night Saturday, and sleep through Sunday recovering because it was just another throwaway day.
I can remember, and yes, it does seem like yesterday: William and I had walked through Harlem, perched atop a rock in Central Park, riffed on Homeland Security posters on the DC Metro.
I remember his voice, but that too is now only a memory.
As gay men, we had been vigilant against HIV/AIDS. But William, and those that loved him, were about to find out that there were 500,000 other things that can go wrong with a body.
So William had gone from plotting a return to the stage in the play Luv, to going through stages of chemotherapy.
As I imagine, the struggle for William had come down to yesterday. I want to feel like I did yesterday. I felt good yesterday. I want to feel that way again.
But what had started as a spark quickly became a conflagration; William had been engulfed.
It was esophageal cancer, it was brief, it left us all going through stages of grief.
*****
Cliches about how quickly time goes by are plentiful and don't need to be repeated. I'm just reminded of those sayings because a new year will be here in about 72 hours. Then it seems that year will be over in a minute.
I just to make sure it is a "new" year. I tried new things; some things worked, some things didn't, but I'm all the wiser for it.
There were also lessons learned. I can't take time for granted because it's finite. There is a beginning and an end.
And I'm greatful for William--"I thought I'd have a sitcom by now"--who taught me to get busy and go for it. I'm not taking anything for granted.
Photo: William in Central Park, July 2007
In one of our earliest conversations, William, an actor friend had said, “I thought I’d have my own sitcom by now.”
He had been like so many of us, those with a regular 9-to-5 to support their artistic ambitions. I could count many: The poet who sold insurance. The graphic artist who worked in an art supply store. The dancer who did publications. The painter who worked in a restaurant. And William who served as an office manager at a non-profit.
Time seemed infintite, and stretched on and on, as if we were all looking at the vastness of the sea or lost, wandering in the Sahara. It seemed like there would always be time to do those things, to make the money and complete the projects we were always dreaming about completing that never made it beyond A GREAT IDEA (My retelling of Theodore Dreiser’s Sister Carrie, titled "Carrie!," is on permanent hiatus). Seemed that there was so much time we didn’t even wear watches. Seemed that we could stay out all night Saturday, and sleep through Sunday recovering because it was just another throwaway day.
I can remember, and yes, it does seem like yesterday: William and I had walked through Harlem, perched atop a rock in Central Park, riffed on Homeland Security posters on the DC Metro.
I remember his voice, but that too is now only a memory.
As gay men, we had been vigilant against HIV/AIDS. But William, and those that loved him, were about to find out that there were 500,000 other things that can go wrong with a body.
So William had gone from plotting a return to the stage in the play Luv, to going through stages of chemotherapy.
As I imagine, the struggle for William had come down to yesterday. I want to feel like I did yesterday. I felt good yesterday. I want to feel that way again.
But what had started as a spark quickly became a conflagration; William had been engulfed.
It was esophageal cancer, it was brief, it left us all going through stages of grief.
*****
Cliches about how quickly time goes by are plentiful and don't need to be repeated. I'm just reminded of those sayings because a new year will be here in about 72 hours. Then it seems that year will be over in a minute.
I just to make sure it is a "new" year. I tried new things; some things worked, some things didn't, but I'm all the wiser for it.
There were also lessons learned. I can't take time for granted because it's finite. There is a beginning and an end.
And I'm greatful for William--"I thought I'd have a sitcom by now"--who taught me to get busy and go for it. I'm not taking anything for granted.
Photo: William in Central Park, July 2007
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