Hal’s passing just a few days ago has me contemplating what he meant in my life and how he was a hero to me. His encouragement for my work and his understanding of the larger picture of bear subculture, as well as our mutual enjoyment of a bong or three while talking about politics or pop culture or gender issues.
Hal was indeed well endowed . . . with charm, a fun attitude, and attitude of inclusiveness: Hal’s leadership was one reason that the Rhode Island Grizzlies club worked: Hal really tried to welcome everyone, even if he didn’t like someone particularly. Especially if he saw a hot woofy bear on the sidelines, he would engage him and bring him into the group.
Hal truly understood how communities bond. His leadership was a natural extension of his open and welcoming attitude. Hal extended his hand to me when I moved from Boston and his friendship very strongly attracted me to move to Providence and to live in the same town.
Hal said once he wanted to start a bear commune: a flexible household of a dozen or so men, all living together, sharing expenses and household duties and each other, sort of like a bear kibbutz, where coupledom was given over to a far greater sense of extended family, and where the virile power of love and sex between masculine men was treasured and celebrated.
At 5:15pm on Thursday, January 8th, just hours before he passed, Hal called me and left a message in a voice remarkably strong for him compared to a few weeks ago. First off he asked how I was doing, with real concern, for he knew I’d just completed a round of radiation treatment. Then he told me the latest news from his doctor: that his testosterone was way imbalanced and that the doc diagnosed his legs as essentially wasted away. Listening to the message again, I am deeply moved at Hal’s friendship: that he reached out to someone else with health problems before he shared his own troubles, so close to the moment of release of his own soul from his weakened body.
At the funeral home service, it was said that Hal spoke of not wanting to submit to the ordeal of another kidney transplant. Hal dealt with his health issues head on, but it never kept him from having big dreams, and from enjoying his life. Hal had fun. He traveled. He had hope. Not merely in quantity of acquaintances, but in the quality of his genuine friendship, Hal accomplished perhaps more than he was aware of while living.
Hal wanted everyone at his memorial for his friends in flannel, behaving badly. Bad, bad bears. Hal would say, What the fuck are you all doing here?! It’s freakin’ cold out! Go home and get laid!
