Stevie

I want to tell you about the song my cousin sent me the other day...But without knowing about my cousin, the story just isn't as good. So this post will tell you about Stevie.

I have a very small family. Only 3 cousins. All my mother's sister's sons. Steve was the youngest and he was my brothers age. Three and 1/2 years older than me. He and my brother were born on each others' due dates - One week apart. We saw them at least once a month. Always on holidays. And for at least a week during the summer. So these guys were my closet relatives. And Steven being the youngest and most connected to my brother, was the most connected to me.

We always knew Stevie was different. He was the card. The class clown. Played the piano. Sang. And was in all the school plays and talent shows. He had more energy than his little town of 400 could handle. He had stories about all the town residents -- Dirty Darold, Gruntude Foster, you name it...He had a story.

Up until about 16 he worked in town in the summers mowing lawns with his brothers. But once he could drive, he decided to drive to the city and live with us and work in the summers. Mom and Dad were fine with it. Dad was already sick at the time, and Steve helped out just enough for it to be worth it.

He lived in our basement basement. Mom had a split level...Meaning we had the family room basement and then the washer and dryer cement floor basement. Steve was happy enough inhabiting the basement basement. We pulled out the rollaway down there and he set up camp.

He and my brother worked at the local amusement park. My brother tells stories now of them racing around the empty parking lot after drinking too much beer. And I remember the time they left that beer in my mother's trunk. The next day, after a day in the hot sun, the beer exploded all over my mother's trunk. I haven't seen her mad many times in my life...But both Steve and Bro were in trouble after that one.

I've always been immodest and kind of an exhibitionist. I've never liked clothes. I can remember one evening on mom's couch in my tiny undies and t-shirt...And Steve asking me to PLEASE go put on some more clothes. Seemed silly to me at the time - But I understand it now.

After high school, Steve went to college at our city's extension of the state university. They have a fairly well respected music conservatory. Steve majored in music there. He excelled and met many good friend - Who we still know to this day. Brian (an angel) is the most noteable.

After college, Steve decided he could make it in the big city and moved to New York. He got a voice coach and moved up in the opera world.

My brother once thought he might go visit Steve in New York. And that is when we found out. I can remember it like it was yesterday. (That's abnormal for me folks...My life is a blur in memory form. It works much better for me to meld it all and fuzz out the details.) Bro was on one phone extension, I was on the other. But we were within viewing distance of each other. I don't remember the words he used and I don't remember how he told us. All I know is...After that phone call, we both knew Steve was gay. Made complete sense. And I'm now a little shocked we never figured it out before. Looking back, all I can say is - "Well, of COURSE you are!" (By the way - I don't think my brother ever made it to New York, but I don't think it had anything to do with Steve being gay.)

We loved Steve. Just loved him. His talent and his energy and his sense of humor just centered our family. Everyone loved him. Even those that he overwhelmed.

When I was about 22, I had a boyfriend that I loved to death and we decided to take our first big trip together. We headed off to New York to see Steve. We stayed with his and his partner, David. I remember thinking how not disturbing this gay relationship was. And I remember how comfortable boyfriend, John, was with them. John and I slept in the living room (which was cool enough that they didn't even question us sleeping together), and Steve and David slept in their room.

I can remember one evening after dinner sitting and chatting. Me in Johh's lap. And Steve on the floor at David's feet with his head in David's lap. I hadn't put much thought into 'being gay'. But the only thought I had at the time was - "There is nothing bad about this. They love each other and there is nothing wrong with love."

Somewhere shortly after this, Steve came out of the closet to the whole family. (Excluding his grandparents.) It was tough on his family. One brother refused to speak of it, the other brother didn't know quite what to do with it, his father ignored it, and his mother went back and forth about it in her stereotypic bi-polar manner.

My mother (his mom's sister) once got my aunt to go with her to visit he and his partner. They had a great time. But there was some blowout afterward that caused years of not talking.

During this blowout, Steve's partner, David, got sick. Yes, AIDS. Mom went and stayed with them for a while. I went and stayed with them for a while. His family deserted him. Unspeakably inhuman. David died of tuberculosis of the liver. We went to his memorial service. And poor Steve suffered on his own. Just barely with the support of his family. (This is killing me now to look back on it as a full fledged adult.)

Some years later (remember...I blur...I can't keep track of time...I'm guessing aboooouuuuuuttttt...4 years?) Steve called my mom on a Friday afternoon. I walked in the door - home from work - just as they were hanging up. I could tell my mother was devastated about something. And she had something to tell me but just couldn't. It was the worst news you could possibly imagine. He had been telling us he was fine up until this point. Now I suspect he just held off telling us as long as he could. Yes, he had AIDS. And he was showing symptoms.

That is one of the worst days of my life. The story about that day is a whole 'nother story. Let's just suffice it to say - It ended a primary relationship that I thought would end in marriage. The person just couldn't handle it and just didn't understand my family ties.

Steve was dying. All that talent and love and humor was going to be gone.

And watching it go SUCKED. Everything you remember from the prime time AIDS crisis was Steve. He got so bad. He looked like an old man. His beautiful hair fell out. His lovely olive skin turned ashy. His young, beautiful body turned into a thing that betrayed and embarrassed him.

He came to my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary. He wanted so much to be there that he gave up his pride and showed us and his little community his old man, sick body. We have some pictures. He didn't want them taken...But my grandpa insisted. And Steve would do anything for grandpa.

He didn't last much longer.

I made my way to Atlanta. And I have to think Steve had something to do with that. I was the only other family member to venture out of our state. I'm not sure I could have done it without him as a predecessor. I got the call about 6 months after I had moved. He was done. It had been too much. He was gone.

I flew home. I can remember the pant suit I wore. (I loved it.) And thinking he'd like it too. I can remember my hair being long and red and curly - Just like he liked it.

He wanted to be creamated, so we did that. There was a fight as to where he would be buried. He was fighting with his mom just before his death, so he insisted all his ashes go in a river in Italy. (I wish I could remember which...I don't.) His mother wanted him buried in his home town. They finally came to a compromise - Half of him in the river....Half of him in his home town. But the thing about his home town. There was an 'old' section of the cemetary and a 'new' section. The 'old'section is undeniably more beautiful and up on a hillside looking straight toward heaven. Steven INSISTED he be in the old section....Even though there were no plots left for sale in that section. My grandfather gave up he and my grandmothers'plots so Steve could be laid at rest there. (They later got more plots in the old section.) Yeah - He was high maintenance...And he kept it up til his last minute on earth.

We stood there, and smiled, on that hilltop with the sun sinking down. And sang Amazing Grace. And I let my hair blow and smiled. And knew just how much the world was going to be missing.

I have some things remaining from him. A cookbook he insisted on doing before his death. People - this is no normal cookbook. No casseroles in here. Beef tenderloin and fancy schmancy stuff no one makes but Steve. I've done his creme brulee' though and it is TO DIE FOR. I also have a big head shot of him...From his portfolio. And the program from his memorial service. It has some of his favorite poems. And another picture of him canoeing on a lake in upstate New York.

I've gone on and on. But I hope this gives you some idea of how much this person meant to me. I miss him SO much. I so wish we could have been adults together. And that he could sit right here by me and have a glass of wine and laugh and talk and love and laugh.

I can't even quite remember it. But at some point during my Nemo saga...I was having a rough day. And something came to me...Some memory...Or thought...Or something. And all I could think was "That was YOU, you KOOK!" I told my Aunt about it at Thanksgiving and she got a good smile.

We all love him. And miss him. And pay tributes to him in every little way we can.

You're light and love and laughter, Stevie. We love you.