2004-06-08
David
I was sitting at my desk not long ago when I had a sudden, bad feeling that an old friend of mine from college, David, was gone. I knew that if I went online and entered his name into Google, I would find out that he was dead.
I am ashamed to admit that I hadn't spoken to David in a long time. I would drop him an email now and again, asking him to let me know how he was doing, and I'd get no response. I got pissy about it, not understanding or knowing that the times I was trying to contact him, he was dealing with far bigger issues than worrying about writing back to me. David was an activist, and a very controversial one at that.
David and I met at the very beginning of my junior year at a tiny, "liberal arts" college smack dab in the middle of Florida. I was moving back into the same dorm room I'd had since freshman year, and I knew that we were getting a new Resident Director that year, but hadn't given it much thought other than to hope that this one wouldn't be so crabby about my music � my room was right next door to the R.D. apartment. I was setting things up, playing Nine Inch Nails on my crappy little boombox, when David appeared in my doorway: baldheaded, wearing baggy plaid shorts and a disintegrating Siouxsie & the Banshees tshirt, and just not looking AT ALL like anybody in any kind of position of authority. "OhmyGOD," he yelled, "You are listening to NINE INCH NAILS. I was beginning to think there wasn�t ANYONE cool here!"
Thus began a friendship and a meeting of the minds that I can honestly say I have never quite experienced since. David had the most DISGUSTING sense of humor; I loved him totally and instantly. I've always said that my own penchant for coprolalia stems in large part from my mother; my friendship with David intensified -- and I daresay -- refined it. Vulgarity was our currency, our lingua franca, and I loved nothing better than to say something vile enough to make David laugh: he had this wicked shriek of a laugh, a demented high-pitched giggling. It absolutely inspired me to come up with the most crude language I could muster. We would sit in his living room and scream with laughter.
We spent all of our time pretty much exclusively in each other's company. We ate lunch together, we did our laundry together, we went thrift-shopping every Saturday morning, and pretty much every night I was in his apartment, where we'd listen to records together. It got to the point where the Director of Residential Life came into David's office. "You and Lisa McColgan are spending an awful lot of time together."
"Uh huh. Yeah, well, she's my best friend here."
"I realize that. I realize that you two are very...similar...personality-wise, but I just want to make sure that you understand there are some...boundaries here...I guess I am just concerned that you two are becoming rather seriously involved with one another."
"Oh, I see. Yes, well, you've certainly given me something to think about."
The Director, having voiced his concerns, left, feeling much better about the situation, and I have to wonder to this day if he had any idea of the significance of the giant rainbow flag that David had over his desk.
No matter. David giggled and giggled as he repeated the whole, sad, sorry conversation that night. We were absolutely floored by the fact that people on campus actually believed that we were a couple, and decided to take it a step further when we both skipped into the cafeteria one afternoon and announced to a not-entirely-disbelieving staff -- made up mostly of older women named Mavis -- that we were engaged to be married.
David was absolutely passionate about social and economic justice, gay rights, and just about anything that seemed "wrong" to him. He once told me about a clerk at Penn State who was pretty openly homophobic. David had gotten a parking ticket, and knew that he would have to deal with this particular clerk. So he got the money together to pay off this ticket � all in pennies. He dumped the bag of pennies on the counter in front of this clerk, who growled: "I can't take this."
"Oh, yes you can; it's legal tender," David cooed, "You HAVE to take it."
He was a seemingly endless reservoir of energy and compassion. At the same time, he just wouldn't back down, particularly if it was something he believed strongly about. The one and only time David and I ever got in an argument was when we went to see a comedian perform on campus. The guy made a number of thinly veiled slurs about gays, and David sat there and muttered and boiled until I finally turned to him and said, "If you don't like it, then let's just LEAVE, David."
He looked at me, aghast. "Shut UP!"
I was furious, and as I recall, I walked back to the dorm by myself that night, and tried very hard to ignore him as he knocked on my door later on, and tried further still to ignore him the next morning as we silently trudged to breakfast. Finally he just shrieked: "WHY aren't you TALKING TO ME?!"
We burst out laughing. I couldn't stay mad at him.
One afternoon, we decided that David needed a pet. Dogs, cats, rodents, and amphibians were prohibited in the dorms, so our options were limited. He didn't want a fish, and after some discussion, we arrived at the notion that a tarantula would be a very cool and badass pet, indeed. Some phone calls were made. David got a hold of a local yokel who dealt in "exotics" such as tarantulas and various odd reptiles. As it turned out, the gentleman did not have a tarantula, but could get David something called a "bird eating spider."
David cupped his hand over the phone, eyes wide in delight. "Oooo, Lees, he says he has a bird eating spider!"
"Sounds fucking awful."
"I KNOW! Let�s get it!"
He returned to the phone. "So, like, it eats birds? I mean, we can feed it other things, right? Is it really ugly, too?"
The gentleman on the other end was blunt: "Sir, this is the most ferocious spider ah have ever dealt with."
After a bit more discussion, and several beers, we agreed that a bird eating spider was exactly the sort of pet that David needed, and we called the "supplier" back, whereupon arrangements were made to meet him in the parking lot of the WALMART in Dade City. He was a stout gentleman of indeterminate age, driving a yellowish Chevy Nova. He handed David a plastic terrarium, containing one very pissed-off looking bird eating spider, and finished the transaction with a warning: "Kids, whutever you do, don't let thet spider BAHT you."
For the next several months, we entertained ourselves by provoking "Fang" with pieces of uncooked spaghetti, and feeding it crickets. We just couldn't bring ourselves to introduce an actual bird into Fang's diet.
David was more or less at constant odds with the college, and it was mutually decided that he would not return for my senior year. I had already secured a little house off-campus, but I was still crushed. I couldn't fathom not having him around. That last year, he would come out from his new place in Tampa and get me, and we would spend the day hanging out. He came to see me in whatever play I was doing, and brought me presents. He gave me a great vintage jewelry box emblazoned with go-go dancers, and he gave me that nasty old Siouxsie and the Banshees tshirt of his, which I still wear.
I graduated, and moved back to Boston. David moved to San Francisco, became heavily involved with ACT UP, and in 1995 was diagnosed as HIV-positive. I didn't know much about the extent of his activism; when I would speak to him, he didn't say much to me about it. I got a card from him when I was living in Allston in '97; he said he loved me and wanted me to come visit.
We just fell out of touch with one another. I would hear something or see something that reminded me of him, and I'd drop him a line, and sometimes he'd write back, but in the last couple of years I just wouldn't hear anything.
I'm angry with myself for letting our friendship just fade away, although I understand intellectually that this is what happens: people change and grow apart. We were meant to be the friends that we were to one another for that period of time. We were meant to love one another as sincerely and intensely as friends can, and we were meant to think fondly of one another as the friendship itself became a thing of the past, because of time and distance and other people.
I think of David, and I still remember his laugh so vividly, and I remember his humor and his depth of compassion and his courage and his intelligence. I remember how much we meant to one another, particularly given our surroundings. I cannot imagine that part of my life without David having been a part of it, and I like to believe that he felt the same about me. I believe with all my heart that I am a better and funnier and more sensitive person for having been David's friend.
Goodbye, David.
For stars we are
And stars we'll be
Just you and me� -- Marc Almond
lisamcc at 7:03 p.m.
8 comments so far
liz k
2004-06-08 20:34:06
hey lisa, i just got your link from tina's page...seems fitting i should comment on your entry on david's death. seeing we were very good friends for a brief moment in growing up time (muffy rap - white girls don't take no crap) and well, we drifted apart too. i can totally picture your hilarity with david and i smiled thinking of you bringing the vulgarity to a higher level - just over the brink of sanity...your creativity and ability to put yourself out there in a totally authentic way is always something i've loved about you. so here i am typing whilst my husband pops the corn and the two kids are finally asleep...my life ensconced in kids, boobs and poop but also moments of intense beauty - the past and present with me all at once. g'night :)
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Jocelyn
2004-06-08 21:37:43
Lisa - I had no idea you knew David. I've also lived in San Francisco since '93, and my first career here was in HIV/AIDS testing and counseling and finally as the HIV Services Coordinator for a well-know non-profit here. So I was quite familiar with him, though sorry we never became friends. Sorry for your loss.
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Jen
2004-06-09 10:27:13
HI Lisa, I just wanted to say I am very sorry for your loss. I didn't know David, and I don't know you, but I understand the pain you feel right now. Keep your chin up and be happy knowing you had a truly wonderful friend when you did have him in your life.
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ladybug
2004-06-09 17:21:13
I think your entry was a beautiful tribute to your friend David. May everyone have at least one person in their life who loves them unconditionally. Take care.
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blue
2004-06-09 18:52:27
condolences. you have made me want to reach out to my oldest friend, zim. no matter how long we go between contacts it's like it was yesterday. truly a great friend, and due for a reach out. there is nothing quite like people you connect to like that.
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Mary Hingston
2004-06-10 09:21:40
Lisa, it's Mary Hingston (Commesso). I just read this incredible piece you wrote. It brought tears to my eyes...partly because I'm sad you have lost someone so close to you and partly because I don't think I have ever had a friendship like you explained. I'm sure David would be pround of your letter...it was awesome! I hope everything is well with you. Your newphew and neices are beautiful!! Love to you! Mary
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Marquis
2004-06-15 10:52:02
Re: David. What a perfect, perfect eulogy. Really quite, quite exquisite. I mean it, mean it, mean it. If I should die any time soon, I beseech you to write a eulogy. You can make stuff up to pad it if you like. In fact, I insist on it. Just keep it dirty. Particularly shrewd is your take on being close friends at a certain time in life, then drifting apart. A natural process about which many feel an unjust sense of guilt. While the current relationship may be sporadic, the genesis of the friendship remains strong. And that is far more important. On that note, I am terribly sorry I didn't get to see you in Boston this weekend, and sincerely hope we can hang out again before another four years evaporate.
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WM
2004-07-05 10:13:33
I met David at a HEAL meeting in Hollywood in 1998. He was facinating, and I could tell he was a genuine, loving, and concerned individual. He sparked a foundation of dedication in me to find a way to END AIDS. Hugs to you and everyone who was touched by him in this sad time. WM ImGay.com
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