The person I know who loved Christmas more than anyone in the world died of AIDS in front of me, in the gap years before AZT was covered by insurance and there were no options to stop the progression of AIDS. I have written about Martin more than any other person who has touched my life, because a gay man represented to me not only the c…
The person I know who loved Christmas more than anyone in the world died of AIDS in front of me, in the gap years before AZT was covered by insurance and there were no options to stop the progression of AIDS. I have written about Martin more than any other person who has touched my life, because a gay man represented to me not only the childhood wonderment spirit of Christmas, but also the generous, forgiving, and eternally-giving spirit I associate with the true followers of Jesus Christ, and religious study (foul mouth aside) ultimately became a huge chunk of my life. He loved Jesus so much, even though he was disowned by his family and church, even though he was gay, and as he got sicker it was almost all he could say. I love the Lord. I love the Lord. It was his mantra.
I might even make a special trip to Target just to get that kitschy gay nutcracker. Martin would have loved it. Every year, I overdecorate and buy something in honor of Martin. If anyone asks me if another human influenced my religious convictions? The human who believed long after every institution and every other person betrayed and rejected him to die, and he still had the most loving heart and good faith in others? Yeah--that’s who saved me and “brought me to Jesus”--not pastors, reverend doctors, professors, or learned rabbis. That’s who convinced me there was true, life-sustaining power in ideas. A point to “all that fucking decorating.” Traditions that mean something. Merry Christmas, Martin (he would be in his mid-sixties now).
Thank you, and I wish I could've known Martin. He sounds like a great person. That disease took more than a few people I knew in various parts of my life. Close friends, "work" friends, relatives, all of 'em. A toast is due to them all.
We are amnestic about genocide of necessity, because when grief hits...every single death hurts individually, but feeling the collective loss en toto (like seeing the quilt), I just black out. Literally too much to feel
The person I know who loved Christmas more than anyone in the world died of AIDS in front of me, in the gap years before AZT was covered by insurance and there were no options to stop the progression of AIDS. I have written about Martin more than any other person who has touched my life, because a gay man represented to me not only the childhood wonderment spirit of Christmas, but also the generous, forgiving, and eternally-giving spirit I associate with the true followers of Jesus Christ, and religious study (foul mouth aside) ultimately became a huge chunk of my life. He loved Jesus so much, even though he was disowned by his family and church, even though he was gay, and as he got sicker it was almost all he could say. I love the Lord. I love the Lord. It was his mantra.
I might even make a special trip to Target just to get that kitschy gay nutcracker. Martin would have loved it. Every year, I overdecorate and buy something in honor of Martin. If anyone asks me if another human influenced my religious convictions? The human who believed long after every institution and every other person betrayed and rejected him to die, and he still had the most loving heart and good faith in others? Yeah--that’s who saved me and “brought me to Jesus”--not pastors, reverend doctors, professors, or learned rabbis. That’s who convinced me there was true, life-sustaining power in ideas. A point to “all that fucking decorating.” Traditions that mean something. Merry Christmas, Martin (he would be in his mid-sixties now).
Thank you, and I wish I could've known Martin. He sounds like a great person. That disease took more than a few people I knew in various parts of my life. Close friends, "work" friends, relatives, all of 'em. A toast is due to them all.
There were so many Martins… He blessed your life and I know you are grateful for his time with you.
I think of my Martins so often. They were a very important part of my “cloud of witnesses.”
We are amnestic about genocide of necessity, because when grief hits...every single death hurts individually, but feeling the collective loss en toto (like seeing the quilt), I just black out. Literally too much to feel
What a beautiful tribute. Blessings be upon him (and you too, darling!).
Thank you for telling me about Martin.
You made me cry at work.
RIP Martin you magnificent creature.
That's really beautiful.
Hey there RC, hope you have a Merry Christmas.
Martin sounds wonderful.