Lighting up the Night

My friend Dan had huge blue eyes and said "fuck" an awful lot. He name dropped the top-notch Atlanta country club where he'd managed the dining room. He got into fights in Boston, defending his restaurant from marauding teenage idiots.

"They thought they'd teach the little faggot a lesson, but I was one tough little faggot," Dan told me.

Dan made lobster bisque so light and creamy and beautiful it almost convinced me I like lobster. He brought chocolate pots de creme to me and my mother, and we shared a bottle of Tokaj with him. I met Dan covering the local Stonewall Democrats for my old paper, and soon began inviting him along whenever I reviewed restaurants. Dan trained as a chef in Italy. He had marvelous taste and a twisted sense of humor.

Dan catered a Christmas party for my mother. He came both as caterer and guest, and had all of us in stitches with stories of weird times in the hospital. Dan had cancer, but had been in remission for years.

"Some young tech could not believe my nipple rings," he told us. "So I had to show him the tattoo on my ass. Red devil. Gets 'em every time."

Two weeks later, my mother and Dan were in rooms in different wings of the same hospital. My mother was recovering from a planned double knee replacement. Dan's lymphoma returned. He called my mother's room from his, told us both that he loved us, and died a couple of weeks later.

Dan deserved more than fifty years. Dan had so much kindness and wit and talent and love in him. I miss him every time I pass the farmers market where he sold exquisite homemade cookies and handmade red wine syrup. One of the last kind things Dan did for me was to walk me through the process of applying for disability. Dan knew the program because of earlier, devastating bouts with lymphoma. When I called him for help, I weighed nearly 600 pounds and was immobilized by sciatica. The advice Dan gave me led me to health insurance, surgery and a healthy, worthwhile life. I truly believe that, without his grace and good sense, I might not be alive today.

I owe him. On October 17th, I hope to repay a few of his many kindnesses to me during our all too brief friendship. I will Light up the Night for Dan Holmes.

Anyone who'd like to sponsor me can e-mail me through the blog. I'm not really in it for the donations, but the charity would probably appreciate it.