Halloween 2006 – Halloween 1978

The past couple of weeks have been chaotic but mostly fun. I’ve been busy organizing the latest DarkRay production, Halloween Party II, the sequel. I decided to hire an event planner this year. Today the house and yard are being over run by a team of decorators and special effects people. Special night time outdoor lighting, fake tombstones, and fog machines are being installed in the front and back yards as I type. I’m just trying to stay out of the way. The cats are hiding under the bed.

Tomorrow the caterers, waiters, bartenders, valet parkers, florists and a makeup artist arrive. Funeral wreaths will be in the main rooms. The planner has a photographer coming and party photo CDs will be mailed to the guests. Fuck, they’re even getting gift bags when they leave. It’s all for the bf. As I said last year Halloween is his favourite holiday so this is all for him. He becomes such a kid this time of year ... and frisky ...

Grab ass anyone?

But last week had its share of sadness. We had to make a quick trip to San Francisco. My old friend, Kerry, died and we went to his memorial service. Kerry had a bad heart for years and this wasn’t entirely unexpected. He’d given me plenty of scares over the years about his health. He was one of the first gay men I ever met. I met him in my teens doing musicals at Theatre Inc. in Houston. Kerry was a dancer, a true chorus boy. He was also the funniest person I ever met. He was a gay Robin Williams. He could riff on anything. His delivery was rapid fire. You had to keep up with Kerry because he never repeated anything. I have cried more tears from laughing at and with him than any other person. He was also the gayest man I have ever met.

One of my favourite memories of Kerry was spending the night at his apartment in Houston one in the 70’s while BC was out of town. Kerry appointed himself my chaperone and baby sitter. After much laugher and way too much to drink we were lying in his bed as I stared at his “woman’s wall”. He had a huge collage of black and white photos of old female movie stars, divas, and female celebrities on one wall – floor to ceiling, totally camp. In my stupor I mutter that most of them were dead and promptly fell asleep. I remember hearing him laughing several times while I slept. I woke with a hangover and it took time for my eyes to adjust to the sunlight pouring through the window. The rays landed on Kerry’s “woman’s wall” which was oddly glinting. As my eyes focused I noticed there were bright shiny pennies taped over the eyes of the photos of the stars that were dead. ... Kerry had found inspiration in the middle of the night. I howled with laughter!

Halloween 1978 found BC and I in San Francisco. Kerry had moved there a few years before. He invited us to a party Halloween night where all the guests drank, put on their makeup, and got into drag before heading to the bars on Castro. It was hysterical ... and once I was drunk I started saying things like “pass me that lipstick ... think those heels will fit me?” For the very first and last time I got in drag. It was bad drag too. Picture a 6’6” man with shoulders like a linebacker in a fringed teddy, fishnet stockings over tights, wig, and in heels. *shudder* When everyone was ready we headed out to the bars. Kerry had found the perfect dress for him. It was a 30’s style gown with a short bolero jacket and he wore a cloche on his curly wig. He made a very good Ginger Rogers. As we walked awkwardly and drunkenly in heels downhill on Delores St. to 18th a car slowed down. It was packed with teenage boys that suddenly started shouting insults and throwing eggs. As most of us scattered Kerry started twirling and time stepping downhill. His arms akimbo upturned at the elbow, all the while laughing and hurling insults back at the kids and dodging their eggs. Soon the kids had stopped and were laughing right along with Kerry. Straight/Gay détente had been achieved in the Castro. It was a great Halloween.

After the service we went to the apartment where he lived with his last lover, George, and I shared those stories with his other friends. Each one had his own story about Kerry. As we got up to leave George went to the bedroom and came back with a clothes bag. Inside was the very dress Kerry had worn in 1978 and gave it to me. “It’s yours now” he said. On the flight home I told Dark I wished Kerry had been able to come to our Halloween party. “He’ll be there in spirit” was his reply.

Last night I went to bed early exhausted from the party preparations. I left Dark watching a DVD. This morning when I got up he was still sleeping. I started down the front stairs on my way to the kitchen when I stopped. There on the lower floor in the curve of the stairs was something new. There was a small platform with a mannequin on it. The mannequin was wearing Kerry’s dress. Someone had staged it in a dance pose, arms bent up at the elbow. The hem of the dress was wired as if twirling. On the face of the mannequin was a blow-up photo of a smiling Kerry fashioned into a mask. Curving up from the platform were thin wires with Styrofoam eggs attached to the tips as if in flight. ... I doubled over laughing. That brought Dark out of the bedroom. “Told you he’d be here in spirit” he said. That’s what comes with having a great bf that used to be a props master.

It’s going to be a wonderful Halloween and tonight after Dark is asleep I’m going downstairs and tape pennies over the eyes on Kerry’s mask.

Entertain me

I am usually a bear when I'm sick. I just want to left alone to heal or sleep or whatever. I haven't been allowed to do that this past week. I've been hovered over, coddled, catered to, babied, pampered, fed, forced to laugh, and been royally entertained. All in all it hasn't sucked a bit.

Friday I went to the doctor and was told everything looked great. Nearly all the symptoms I was experiencing have vanished. My pain is getting better. But I swear he must have put a bowling ball under my shoulder blades during the surgery. Every bit of the pain is below my neck.

This house has been a beehive of activity and has resembled a hotel, recovery ward and animal shelter. Margo is staying with us while she's filming in town. Dark's mother came and is staying with us for a week. Of course gay Scott and Carmen, our housekeeper, are here. And as if the house isn't full enough yesterday Dark came home with another rescued kitten saying "Can I keep him? Can I? Can I? Please Mom, can I? I promise to feed him and do all my homework!" You try saying no to these two faces.


The dining room table has been the scene of some wonderful meals and great conversation. Dark's mother told a story of finding him as a child playing doctor in the attic the neighbor boy. ... ahem ... Carmen told us about crossing the border in drag before finally getting her papers. Margo told the stories about our last two stage performances together. She and I were in Oklahoma at Theater Under The Stars in Houston in 1972. It was arguably the worst production of that war horse ever seen. The leading man playing Curly was bald as a cue ball with a little fringe and wore a blonde curly wig that flew off twice when he threw his hat in the air at the end of the big "Oklahoma" number. The horse he rode on stage was no trooper either and crapped on stage nightly. That prompted me to tell about seeing the musical version of Gone With The Wind in London later that same year. It had a horse too. Maybe it was the same horse because it crapped on stage during the burning of Atlanta number. Then Margo told about being Off Broadway in Always...Patsy Cline in 1997. The show had a number where she put a cowboy hat on a broom and danced with it while listening to Patsy sing. The night I came to see the show instead of dancing with the broom she came flying offstage, slapped the cowboy hat on my head pulling me out of my seat and up on stage to two step with her. She neglected to inform the band leader and Tori Palazola what she was going to do. Tori's jaw dropped and the band on stage stopped playing til Margo waved them on. She and I danced while whispering "It's gonna be Oklahoma all over again. Look at Tori, she's about to crap. ... Where do you want to eat after the show? ... Have you gained weight?" Dark told hilarious stories about Babylon Five mishaps.

I am enjoying my recovery immensely so if you happen to be in LA and can tell a good story come entertain me. I have one more empty bedroom and an extra chair at the table. But no more cats. OK?

grateful recovering blogger update

The surgery came off without a hitch. My surgeon removed two discs and replaced them with grafted bone and fused the vertebrae with titanium plates and screws. I woke up sometime Friday afternoon feeling no pain – thank you, morphine. When the pain started the nurses promptly gave me more morphine and I would drift off to sleep. Thank you, nurses. When I woke up Friday night my nurse told me Dark was out of surgery and in the next room. She helped me walk to see him. Thank you, Nurse Laura. I wish I had a picture of his face when he looked up and saw me. It registered complete shock. Thank you, Dark. It was priceless.

It seems the drain the surgeon had put in my incision was doing its job. The blood had drained and soaked the bandage and was soaking the front of my gown. I must have looked like I had been attacked by an axe murderer. His operation went well and his leg was propped up. What a pair we made. The nurse helped me back and cleaned me up. Saturday, the drain was removed, a new bandage applied, and I was sent home with a prescription for Percacet. Thank you Cedars-Sinai Hospital.

Gay Scott drove us home and helped each of us up the stairs. So how do I feel? Not bad at all considering. My pain is manageable. Thank you, Percacet. The pain is actually between my shoulder blades. The surgeon told me that might happen because he had placed a bean bag support under my shoulder blades and taped my shoulders to the operating table to get the proper angle he wanted. I had been in that position for three hours while he operated on me. I have an inch and a half incision. No stitches, it is dermabonded closed. During the operation my trachea and oesophagus were moved to the side to allow the surgeon access to my discs so I have a bit of a sore throat still. I had a few bad hours Saturday night caused I think by the anaesthesia or morphine. Poor gay Scott had to hold my head while I worshipped the porcelain god. That’s a true friend. Thank you, Scott. But the nausea passed.

Sunday, the flowers and visitors started arriving. We are both a little overwhelmed. Friends have been more than kind. Thank you one and all. And special thanks to you, Susan. We are both recuperating nicely. The good news for me is that the operation has eliminated the difficulty I have had holding my head up. Thank you, Dr. Patel. The good news for Dark is the scars on his leg will be gone when he heals. Thank you, Dr. Bradley. We’re both very happy campers. Have I forgetten to thank anyone? Oh yeah, thank you, Cher.