Down

I guess I've been lucky so far in life; Doug's funeral tomorrow (obit here) is the first I've been connected to since my maternal grandmother died — about 25 years ago. One person's consolation to me was that as you get older, you get used to "this kind of thing." In that regard, I guess I'm even luckier, then, because I was born just late enough to have missed the apparently ever-present funerals of young gay men I read about in novels written in the late 80's. (Heck, I only know one person that I know is HIV-positive, even. But I digress.)

Perverse pleasure du jour: honestly answering a co-worker who uses "how are you" as a greeting. I don't think "a friend of mine just died and I'm going to his funeral this weekend" was quite the "fine, thanks" he was anticipating.

Another Doug remembry from today: Doug was perhaps the biggest Les Misérables fan I have ever known. This was fine with me, as I adore the show, too. We drove to Gainesville, Florida, some years back, to catch a matinee for which he'd managed to get front-row seats. We were directly in front of Fantine as she sang "I Dreamed a Dream" — I mean, she was looking right at us! — and the tears started flowing. (This is early in the show for me; I can usually hold out until Eponine's death.) Doug managed to befriend the mother of one of the Young Eponines, and spent the day in the Parks with them when they came to Orlando later that tour. In another instance, he had agreed to keep an eye on my apartment while I was out of town; while I was gone, I found a limited-edition print from the Broadway run of the show, and bought it for him as a thank-you. The last time I visited Doug's house, I noticed it was hanging prominently among the Nagles. It's nice when you know a gift has truly hit its mark like that.