Dana Butler
Hanging in my office. |
We were supposed to be fundraising for the company. That is hiring, training and firing folks who cold called dance patrons to beg for money. Applying for non profit grants. Typing, duplicating, folding and stuffing envelopes and stamping or "franking" as Sylvia called it, the envelopes. Finally, carting off heavy bags full of said envelopes to be mailed.
I'm not exactly sure of Dana's job description, but I know he was a God-send for me. There was so much to be done and when I got behind Dana always offered to help me. He stayed late and he wouldn't stop until the job was done.
Dana and I would spend as much time as we could in Sylvia's crowded office. Sylvia described herself as "unafraid, unthreatened and unstoppable". A former Ebony Fashion Fair model and flight attendant who had traveled the world she had stories to tell. To Dana and me, she was irresistible. I don't know what she was supposed to be doing either, but we knew she could spin a good yarn and that helped when the days got tedious. She began every tale with...
"So, anyway..."
In his healthier days. |
At the performances we got to dress up and this is when Dana shined. He had a splendid wardrobe. His red leather suit was my favorite. Not everyone can wear a red leather suit, but Dana rocked it with a Prince vibe.
Reheating Dana's home cooked meal. Giving the illusion that I cooked it. |
When my Uncle Wilbert died suddenly from a heart attack, I'd heard the news unceremoniously from a cousin on my answering machine. I went to work, but I wasn't much good there. Uncle Wilbert was a father figure to me and I was shattered by his passing. Sylvia and Dana could see that I was not doing well and they offered to help me get home. Sylvia drove me home in her car and Dana drove my car home for me. Dana stayed and sat with me for another hour or so, as I sobbed, just to make sure I was OK, then he took a cab back to the office. I so appreciate their loving care.
In Alabama checking on Sylvia. |
Dana and I packed our things and hit the road for a car trip to Alabama. Even though Sylvia flew, we got there one day after she arrived. She couldn't believe it when we showed up at her door!
"What in the world? What are you two doing here?"
"We came to check on you. We want to make sure you're OK."
The ride was a beautiful bonding time for Dana and me, although bittersweet. He had AIDS by then and we both knew his time was short.
"What in the world? What are you two doing here?"
"We came to check on you. We want to make sure you're OK."
The ride was a beautiful bonding time for Dana and me, although bittersweet. He had AIDS by then and we both knew his time was short.
I worried that he wouldn't live to complete the trip. He got weaker and weaker with each passing day. We shared a joint to help increase his appetite. Nothing was really helping at this point. I worried momentarily if I would contract AIDs by smoking with him. Society knew more about AIDS but there were vestiges of ignorance still in 1995. I did most of the driving in his nice new car. I love to drive and this was right up my alley. Selfishly I campaigned for his car after he died by repeating how much I loved to drive.
I had never been to Alabama and the countryside was gorgeous. I had read about the red clay in books and seeing it ribboned through the roadside soil in person was beyond compare.
I had never been to Alabama and the countryside was gorgeous. I had read about the red clay in books and seeing it ribboned through the roadside soil in person was beyond compare.
We stayed with Sylvia a few days just to confirm she was in good hands. Her roommate and dear friend Cornelius Carter, checked out. He, too, was taken aback when we dropped in unannounced. They had not unpacked and boxes were everywhere. Cornelious a talented dancer, choreographer and former Harvard professor, now Director of Dance at University of Alabama, was more than up to the task of looking out for our Sylvia. Satisfied, we set out on our way back home. Dana got weaker with every mile so I drove the whole way back, hoping he would make it.
I loved visiting his home in St. Louis. It was small like him, elegant and thoughtfully decorated. Every nook and cranny was adorned with something to please the eye, including a baby grand piano.
I got to know his family, his mother, Phyliss, and aunt Bernadine. We exchanged Christmas cards until they got too old to do so. His mom had already lost one son to AIDS and it was excruciating for her to watch her second and last son go the same way. She was strong though. She was stoic. I learned much from her. She taught me how to look death in the face without flinching. To be there for a friend until the bitter end.
The day arrived when the dreaded phone call came. I was hanging out with another less than worthy guy when the phone rang. It was Phyliss at the hospital.
"Dana probably won't make it through the end of the day."
For some reason I consulted Unworthy Guy #2 about whether to go to the hospital to see my friend. UG#2 shrugged his shoulders and I got my coat.
"Dana probably won't make it through the end of the day."
For some reason I consulted Unworthy Guy #2 about whether to go to the hospital to see my friend. UG#2 shrugged his shoulders and I got my coat.
Phyliss was there along with another of Dana's good friends. I wish I could remember her name, for we formed a deep bond that day. Dana was so slight, lying there in the hospital bed, you could barely tell there was a person there. His already tiny frame wasted away to nearly nothing. The nurses seemed to avoid his room. Dana was through talking. But I talked to him as his mom suggested. I reminisced about good times past and I let him know how much I loved and appreciated him. By this time we could hear the gurgling sound of his death rattle. Something else I'd read about but never experienced. You don't want to experience this.
Then the rattling began to fade. I sat beside him and I cradled the top of his head with my cupped hand. He took his last breath and I felt his head go from warm to cool. Was that his soul leaving his body? I don't know. I was glad to be there with his family. He was a good friend to me and I miss him.
I also had a dear friend who died of AIDS. We started out as co-workers at the phone company and I came to really love him. During those crisis years we lost so many outstanding men I started to get numb.
ReplyDeleteWow, Denise! This brought back so many memories! Dana was always fussing about folks, which was always entertaining! �� Heck! I didn’t know what any of y’all did...not even my mom! What she cared most about in that work was hosting FABULOUS dinner parties and receptions for the artists and ensuring St. Louis city school students filled as many seats as they could! Exposure to the arts was everything to her! She indeed met lifelong friends with you, Dana and Cornelius. Those were the days...when everything was simple, easy and full of love. I remember Dana colluded with my mom and drove her and my high school boyfriend to Atlanta my freshman year at Clark to check out Calvin and try to shake some sense into me! LOL! 26 years later...Calvin is still around! Ha! I remember in high school sending care packages to a different boyfriend who was away at Morehouse. For some reason I did this multiple times at Dance STL in my mom’s office when they were onWebster’s campus. Dana and Sylvia would cut their eyes at each other, probably rolled them behind my back, but helped nonetheless! aaaaahhhh the memories of better days! I miss them too!
ReplyDeleteWhat beautiful memories. Thanks for sharing them.
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