A TRIBUTE TO LARRY

Recently, I wrote about my long friendship with Larry. Today, I learned that he passed away a few weeks ago, which explains why he wasn’t answering my calls. Larry was 84 years old and apparently died peacefully. A former prison inmate came to live with him this past year. Larry had a habit of making pen pals with prisoners. He agreed to give his house and car to this man in exchange for living with Larry until he died. I had asked the roommate to contact me if anything happened to Larry, but he didn’t. At least I know that Larry isn’t suffering anymore from the debilitating symptoms of HIV, which left him in a wheelchair and somewhat dependent on others for his care. The following is the original piece I wrote about him a few months ago with minor revisions:

Larry was a close neighbor when I lived in Dallas over 20 years ago. We spent hours on each other’s porches discussing our workday, politics, people, news, religion, opinions about various subjects, and our respective histories. We shared core values, and I learned something new from him each time we talked. For many years, he taught writing to gifted and talented “ESL” (English as their second language) children in Dallas. Toward the end of each school year, the children gathered with friends and family to read their compositions in a special ceremony. Larry’s outstanding teaching abilities were evident at the two ceremonies I attended. He loved teaching children, and there’s no doubt that he was terrific.

Larry was born in 1937 and grew up in California. When he “came out” to his parents in the 60s, his parents didn’t respond positively, although his mother eventually accepted it. To this day, his younger brother does not speak to him because he believes Larry is a sinner. Larry served during the Vietnam War as a code breaker. After receiving his degree, he taught in Samoa for a few years. In the 80s, he was diagnosed with HIV. Larry decided at that point to become celibate, as he reasoned that the virus would probably mutate and worsen his condition. Larry was one of the first to receive an experimental drug called antiretroviral therapy, now the standard treatment for the chronic but incurable disease of HIV. No doubt Larry’s survival for the past 40 years is rare and is the direct result of receiving ART early. During my time as his neighbor, I would take him to the ER when he had bouts of pneumonia, a common symptom of HIV/AIDS. I would be less than honest if I didn’t admit that I paused when I had to treat any sores that might arise on his back, but my love for him superseded any fear I had of contracting HIV. After all, he would have done the same for me if the situation had been reversed.

Larry was the sweetest person I ever knew. Despite being shunned by his father, brother, and society, he possessed a loving personality. It would have been understandable if he had been bitter. Plus, he was always a wise and brilliant teacher.

One of Larry’s favorite activities was creating “trash houses.” He used discarded milk cartons, paper, cardboard, etc., to create beautiful Victorian houses approximately 24 inches high and eight inches wide with the most delicate details you’d see on any Victorian house that’s been lovingly kept. Over 20 years ago, he donated one of his creations to be auctioned by a non-profit organization with which I was affiliated in Dallas. I outbid everyone at the auction, and it’s accompanied me on many moves for the past 20 years. The house represents my love for this man and many fond memories of our time together on this earth.  

My most recent move proved too much for my treasured trash house. I called Larry and asked if I could have a replacement. Unfortunately, all his houses have been promised to others upon his death. However, he told me to mail it to him, and he would make the necessary repairs and return it. “If I live to finish it, I’ll be glad to return it to you,” he calmly replied. I shared that he might be older than me, but we’re both on borrowed time, so “who knows if I’ll be alive to receive it when you’re finished?”

Our conversation drifted into Larry’s reason for assembling the houses over the years. Between his choking up with tears, he quoted the Bible verse, John 14:2-6, “In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go, you know, and the way you know.”

Larry was building mansions as he readied himself to meet his maker.

(The house was never returned to me, but my time with Larry will remain a treasured memory. He’s now in a place with many mansions. Rest in Peace, my dear friend.)