First of all, I want to say
thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who shared their wonderful suggestions on
SLEEP!I am definitely going to be trying them--and I will report back.
Thank you so very much for taking the time to HELP me!
Thanks, thanks, thanks. I knew I could count on you guys. I am lucky!
Second, my dear friend
Heather Anna Corrigan Herrick of the Cake of Nutty Goodness Fame, took a moment yesterday to send me a quick e-note in which she expressed to me her great love AND, she said, she needed to inform me that
m'blog--with the
black background and
bright multi--colored wording--is hard to read.
Now, as you may know, there are precious few opinions I value as much and to which I listen with such rapt and intent deference as those belonging to
Heather Anna Corrigan Herrick O'Congf.
(O'congf is Irish-Gaelic for "of the Cake of Nutty Goodness Fame)But, because I am very fond of my current blog lay-out and spent a good 3 hours one night sifting and trying the various templates, fonts and colors provided by our tireless friends at blogger.com, I wanted to throw it out to the rest of you?
Is it annoying and trying on the eyes to read m'blog? What are your opinions?
Please share. I will listen AND consider.
now
THIRDLY, FINALLY and Importantly, we arrive at my actual post for today.
My friend Matt.
I have been trying to decide for a few weeks now whether I should post about Matt...
Not because there is really anything too controversial about what I want to say...
I've hesitated because of how quiet and personal my feelings for and surrounding Matt are...
(I know you're thinking:
personal and private has never stopped you before, Nathan)
(true, oh how true)
It's made me think a lot about why I blog.
(which is another discussion entirely) But basically, I blog for two reasons--
1) to share and stay connected with all of you--to let you know how and what I am doing--and to hear your responses to my thoughts, feelings and life. It's kind of like a journal with feedback, right?
2) to create a place where I can own my feelings, thoughts, opinions, decisions, journeys, travels and beliefs--to claim and to take responsibility for MY LIFE-- before the world.
I also think this is why I write plays and write in general.
Anyway, with this in mind, I decided its time I should try to write about Matt. I haven't yet.
So I am going to share some of my feelings about my friend Matt.
What I want to say is pretty is simple. But sometimes--a lot of times--even simple things take me a while...
As some of you may know, my dear friend Matt died a little over two years ago in Nepal.
In September of 2006 Matt began working for the World Wildlife Fund (
WWF).
Matt loved environmentalism and conservation. He had a BS from Vanderbilt University in Environmental Science and a Masters Degree in International Sustainable Development from Brandeis University.
He worked all over the world studying and trying to sustain our diverse, fragile and beautiful world. He worked with farmers on the Altiplano in Bolivia; he worked with sea turtles all over the Caribbean and Central America. He did environmental work in
Baja California and on the Galapagos Islands and completed a 9-month sustainable development internship in Bangalore, India.
During the five years I knew Matt, I was lucky enough to receive e-mails and photo albums from him as he worked and traveled.
Matt was the first guy I ever really dated. He was the first guy with whom I ever really considered being in love. He was the first guy with whom I really considered building a life...
Our actual "relationship" was pretty short, however. Six months. But--for a first "relationship"--it was significant.
Matt was in transition when we met.
He had graduated from Vanderbilt and after having done non-profit work in Bolivia for six months, had decided to come and stay with his parents who had recently moved from Albany, NY (where Matt was raised) to Layton, Utah.
Both his parents have Utah--Mormon--roots and are devout members of the Church, who are now serving a Service Mission for the Church in Jamaica.
Matt himself served a mission in Chile.
When we met, Matt was getting ready to apply to graduate programs and I was just about to start my first year at Weber State in Ogden.
My own move to Ogden from
Orem was a last ditch effort for me in a lot of ways.
After returning from my own mission to Russia five years earlier I had struggled--struggled--struggled with finding a course for my life and discovering what I was gonna do with "this thing". I was in and out of therapy--some of it useful, some of it less so. I had studied at
UVSC for two years and then transferred to
BYU for a semester, which...ummm...didn't work out.
I had been working pretty consistently at different jobs caring for individuals with disabilities and had been, naturally, doing a lot of theatre. Through all of this I was always in contact with my Bishops, who were overall wonderful and loving, and with my family and friends (who were also always wonderful and loving) about "this thing". I was trying desperately to work out what I was gonna do with it and I knew that "it" just did not fit into the life I thought I must lead to be happy.
I had a lot anxiety. I was up and down. I made a lot of progress in a lot of ways. This was not a horrible time--just a time of struggle.
In 1999, I had been
disfellowshipped and I was working the hardest I ever had to make my life what I knew it should be. I was back in therapy, I was reading my scriptures, I was praying like a mad dog, I was attending church and activities, I was always looking for ways to love and serve, I was meeting with my wonderful Bishop weekly, I was working in a job I found stimulating and worthwhile, I was living in an apartment with my best and most supportive friend,
AND I was dating an amazing woman--
seriously. She knew all about "my struggles" and still wanted to try and pursue a relationship. She was kind, loving, patient, fun, VERY smart and, of course, beautiful. She and I had so much fun and she became a permanent part of my closest friends' lives as well. And my family adored her. I felt like it was gonna happen and I was on my way...
This went on for 9 months. I was 25. It was 2000.
Then, it’s hard to explain how or why--but both she and I gradually became aware that there were problems. Something was missing. It wasn't the physical component that was missing. Perhaps surprisingly, we had a very active--but chaste--physical relationship and I was not finding it difficult to imagine a future in that department. It was the "being in love" part that was missing.
I loved her. I did. I did.
Its been a long time since those days and what I now qualify as "being in love" is quite different than the young naive ideals I held then. But the truth is, whatever "being in love" may mean, it was not present in my feelings for her.
However, I do think she "was in love" with me. It wasn't until later, when I really did "fall in love" and have that love returned, that I could truly understand how deep her pain and disappointment must have been.
(Not because I was so great or anything, but because when you're in love and it doesn't work out, it really hurts) I still feel badly for that. But she is and was an amazingly wise and compassionate woman who has always offered her friendship and support to me.
At the time, the failure of our relationship seemed catastrophic to me and within a few months, I had really come to a point where I felt I could go no further.
I needed to change my approach. I felt like I had tried everything.
Long before this--perhaps even before my own mission--I had given up the idea that I could somehow entirely rid myself of my homosexual feelings. I understood, even then, that through the Atonement and love of Christ I didn't have to be perfect. The Lord loved me as I was and He would aid and support me, despite my imperfections and temptations. All I had to do was do my best, give it everything I had and He would help me live the life He required of me. Even though I struggled so much, I had this inner and foundational peace--that I was loved and valued as I was. I understood that my homosexual feelings and identity were part of who I was, and the real struggle was understanding how they fit into my identity as a disciple of Jesus Christ and as a faithful member of His true Church.
Before the failure of my relationship with this woman and the subsequent turmoil, I would never have considered an approach to "this thing" that did not place the Church at the very center of my life.
I began to consider the possibility of living without the Church--without that support. Without the validation and surety it gave me that I was doing what God expected of me.
The thought terrified me. I was certain I would "loose the Spirit" and, worst of all I feared, I would loss my desire to do good. To live a loving life filled with good. I really wanted to do what was right. Could I be a good person without the Church?
I decided that I needed to finish my degree and I had a good friend who was studying theatre at Weber State so I went up and auditioned for a scholarship and received a full-tuition waiver. In June of 2001 I moved to Ogden to start a
NEW LIFE! Ahhh Ogden! (
New life may be pushing it--I needed a change. I needed to try something different)
It has proved to be a good choice. It really has changed my life immeasurably--in the exponential and untraceable ways that most decisions do...
I met Matt-- there in Ogden-- at the end of June. He and I were both 26.
Matt really was a big part of my life changing. Of course, I don't believe I thought about it too much at the time--how my life was changing--I was just trying to make my life work.
Both Matt and I were new to the area. We had no friends to speak of within 50 miles other than our families. Matt drove an old red Toyota
Celica that barely moved and my own Honda Accord could barely make it from my apartment in Ogden to his parent's house in nearby Layton.
But we had so much fun. He introduced me to his family and cousins and he met my sisters who lived in Ogden. We went hiking all over the surrounding mountains. Matt helped me change a flat tire. We spent afternoons and nights together. We watched countless movies in the downstairs TV room at his parent's house, tangled on the couch, and when the movies were over we'd discuss and argue and laugh.
Matt's father, Stuart, was the Ward Boy Scout Leader and one August weekend he was taking his troop on a camping trip in the
Uintah Mountains. Because Stuart wanted to get the best site possible, he asked Matt and I to take his car, packed with some of the equipment, up a few days early and set up a tent. So, Matt and I drove up through the Wasatch to the
Uintahs and to Mirror Lake. We set up the camp and spent a couple days hiking the rocky cliffs and peaks--talking and laughing as we circled the glacial lakes and crossed the headwaters of the Provo River.
We laughed a lot. Matt was a smart ass and had a sarcastic streak, but he also had a kind and gentle humor. I say we talked and discussed, but mostly he listened and responded and took the piss out of my earnest opinions. I liked that.
This sounds hopelessly
cliché, but Matt...had a laugh! Like any one's laugh, his was unique and indescribable. Matt's laugh belonged only to him and--
cliché again--I still hear it clearly. In fact it was remembering a joke we shared the other day--and the way Matt lifted his chin and chuckled so deeply-- that started me thinking it was time to write all this down.
Matt was happy. He had life in him. He was free and comfortable with himself in a way that I just was not yet. One night after classes had begun at Weber and I had made some other friends, we went dancing at a gay club in Salt Lake. Matt came with us. I remember being shocked and amazed at Matt's dancing. It was a crazy--yet somehow controlled--flurry of arms and legs and spins. I think he caught my almost embarrassed face and just smiled, happy in the freedom he found there-- dancing in his particular and joyful way.
Matt was free and full of action. He was a doer. At that point he had already served a two-year mission in Chile, spent a Spring Break working for Habitat for Humanity, a semester in the Caribbean tracking sea turtles and six months helping subsistence farmers in Bolivia.
I loved his stories and envied his exciting life. Despite his travels, Matt had a
rootedness in him. I think it came from his wonderful family and from a knowledge that he was engaged in good works.
I was still unsure of so much. I know Matt must have been unsure as well in many ways. It's probably wrong to compare journeys, but he seemed so much farther than me.
I often found myself torn and confused about how to remain a good, decent, spiritual man even while I was clearly letting go of the very institution which had given me so much understanding of what Goodness,
Decentness, and Spirituality meant.
I remember late one early fall night, after having watched a DVD, Matt and I were standing on the sidewalk in front of his parent's house in Layton. I love warm Utah nights in early fall. The sky was probably relatively clear, with a few big clouds, some stars and maybe a bright September moon throwing light on the giant Wasatch peaks making them glow in that familiar way. Matt and I were both raised good Mormon boys, we both served missions, we both had families who were active in and loved the Church. I told him it was hard for me to balance all of that. I told him that I still wanted to be a good person, that spirituality and God were still important to me and I told him that I was confused at how to manage that. I asked him what he thought.
He told me he didn't think about it too much. He told me it didn't bother him anymore. He said he had made a decision that he was going to be happy, that he was going to live an honest life and fill that life with goodness. He told me that, of course, he had questions. But, he said, he knew that if he spent his time doing good things--being happy--making the world a better place the best he knew how, all the questions would either work themselves out or, in the end, didn't matter.
I don't remember how or if I responded too much. I clearly remember what he said though.
At some point, several months later, Matt and I had "the talk". The talk where we mutually decided that "our relationship" wasn't going to "work out". He wasn't staying put for very long. He knew that he was going to Grad school within a year and would be moving about the world with the work he wanted to do. He had told me that he would settle down someday when he was stable.
I wanted something stable right then. Still, Matt didn't see why, while he was still living in Utah with his parents, we couldn't continue to date--without a commitment. I was very idealistic. I said, let's just be friends.
And you know what, we did become friends. We transitioned pretty smoothly to a genuinely supportive and good friendship. This was my first experience with what I have come to recognize as a nearly universal phenomenon among gay men: Ex gay lovers--partners--boyfriends--really do "stay friends". Often times, very good friends.
Matt got accepted to Brandeis and I continued to study at Weber. He moved to Boston. He called from school and kept me updated on his life, studies and dating. We talked weekly at first. He told me all about his roommates Melissa and Naomi, with whom I briefly chatted one winter evening when I called and Matt was not at home. In the spring, Matt came back to visit his parents. We hung out. He went back to Boston. I started dating someone else; he had his boyfriends. We talked about it all.
Matt went to India to do his internship. He loved that he was going to be in
BANGalore, India. '
Nough said, right?
Our conversations turned to e-mails, supplemented by the hilarious group e-mails he sent about his life there. He sent pictures--wonderful pictures.
When he was back in the States, between non-profit jobs in Costa Rica, in
Baja, or in the Galapagos Islands there were more phone calls.
I met Travis, graduated from Weber State and moved to New York City to start Grad school at Columbia University.
In the spring of 2006, Matt got a full time job with the World Wildlife Fund and moved to DC. He e-mailed to say; " I'm coming to New York this summer! And we are hanging out!" I replied that, sadly, I would miss him since I was going to be spending the summer at my family's Cottage on Lake Michigan with Travis caring for my grandfather and making money painting and roofing. He called me while I was at the cottage one July day and asked "Girl! How long have you and Travis been together?" I told him it was nearly four years now. He said, "And you guys are roofing?" I replied that, yes, we were. He said "Four years and roofing?!! You guys aren't gay--you're lesbians!"
He told me that his area of focus at the WWF was India and Nepal. He was working to create local partnerships to promote sustainable preservation of the habitat for elephants and tigers and the Red Panda. I told him I had always loved Red Pandas. He promised to send me a picture of one and we agreed that as soon as Travis and I were back in New York we would arrange a weekend trip to D.C. The next day I got an e-mail with a photo of a Red Panda attached.
A few weeks later, Matt called to tell me he was going to go on his first field assignment to Nepal and that he would be gone by the time I returned to New York. Our trip to D.C. would have to wait.
Then one late September morning back in New York, I was listening to NPR. On "Morning Edition" they reported that searchers had located the site of a WWF chartered helicopter, which had crashed the day before in a remote densely forested and mountainous region of western Nepal. There were no survivors.
It was a short news clip and I quickly searched the internet for more details. I found an article reporting the names of most of the 24 people who had been on board the helicopter when it crashed while returning from a ceremony where Nepali government officials and WWF officials had returned management of a conservation area to the local government. Of course, Matt's name was among those listed on board the helicopter when it crashed.
Somehow, it seems kind of silly to try to describe my feelings in that moment. I was not very well acquainted with death. I had never lost anyone this close to me. Matt was my friend. He was my ex-boyfriend. He was my first boyfriend. He and I were the same age. I hadn't seen him in years...
My grandmother had died when I was 8 and the summer before Matt's death, my high school drama teacher, Syd Riggs, with whom I was extremely close (she and her family were some of my closest friends), died unexpectedly. I hadn't been able to return to Utah for Syd's funeral and regretted it.
I was quickly contacted by one of Matt's high school friends who informed me that because there was little hope of finding Matt's remains, his family had decided to have a memorial service for Matt in Utah the following week. I determined that I would go.
The night before the memorial, I went to a party for Matt's friends held at his cousin's house in Salt Lake. I met his grad school roommate Naomi, who lived in Queens, and so many other people I never knew existed. Because Matt had spent so much of his life in such far-flung places, he had many friends who didn't know each other. Some of us of course, knew
of each other, but most of us had never met. There we all were: Matt's cousins, his best friends from high school, his friends from undergrad, his friends from graduate school,
and most of Matt's ex-boyfriends. Me included. It was awkward. It was emotional. It was overwhelming.
The next day, before the memorial, I stopped by Matt's parent's house in Layton. His parents had invited Matt's friends to stop by before the memorial to catch up or to get acquainted, as they had not met many of Matt's globe-scattered friends.
I hadn't been able to call and let Matt's parents know that I was going to attend the ceremony, and frankly, I was worried they wouldn't remember me. When Matt's mother, Vicki opened the door, there was a moment and then she smiled, threw open her arms and said, "Nate!" We embraced and she told me how touched she was that I had come and that, of course, she remembered me and always asked Matt for updates on my life.
Matt was
my first boyfriend. I was not his. But I was--for Matt's parents--his first boyfriend. They had never met someone who Matt dated before me, and after me, his parents had only briefly met a few of Matt's other boyfriends.
Vicki called out to Stuart, who came from across the front room, filled with family and friends, and embraced me. He remembered me as well. There were so many people there and as Stuart and Vicki attended to guests, I stood in the living room for an awkward moment until Matt's sister Debbie approached me. Debbie lived in Shanghai with her husband and children and on her way to Utah, she had been able to stop in Nepal, where she attended a memorial service for all the victims of the crash. She said she had some wonderful photos and would send them to me. She took my e-mail address and turned to talk to another of Matt's friends.
I wandered, almost unthinkingly, downstairs. When I turned the corner at the bottom and saw the TV room--where Matt and I had watched all those movies--I was nearly buried by the palpable memory and emotion in that room. I sat on that couch, buried my face in it's cushions and cried.
Matt's family had decided to hold his memorial outside--not too far from Matt's parents house in Layton. It was fall in Utah. It was a bright October day. The scrub oak on the Wasatch peaks was orange and yellow and the sky beyond them was blue and endless.
When we got to the event center where the memorial was to be, I helped his family carry large photos of Matt standing on beaches in Costa Rica and Baja, on rocky cliffs in the Galapagos, in front of Hindu shrines in India, on mountains in Nepal, with his father on the rim of Crater Lake, with friends in a park in Albany, with his brother and sisters on a family vacation--so many pictures of the people and places that Matt loved. We carried them, along with other items from Matt's life and travels, to tables that surrounded rows of folding chairs.
During the memorial, Stuart and Vicki stood next to each other and expressed their thankfulness to all present, to the WWF officials who had traveled to be there and most of all for the life and blessing of their son, Matt. Stuart spoke about his son's work and life. Stuart, before a largely Mormon audience, said that his son had experienced attraction to members of the same sex and that Matt had shared his feelings and experiences with his family. He said that as Matt came to understand his own feelings and live his life accordingly, his family's compassion, acceptance and love increased. Stuart expressed gratitude for his son's choice to live honestly and openly.
Vicki, spreading her arms wide, said that "Matt walked through life like this. He walked with his arms open and gathered everyone that he encountered up in his arms, making friends of everyone. Matt made friends of everyone."
She then invited all of us--friends and family--to stand and share our feelings and memories of Matt. One by one people stood and spoke. Matt's mission president, his best friend from high school, his most recent boyfriend, and Naomi--his grad school roommate. They all stood and, in their own way, shared how Matt had changed them. I hesitated, but quickly decided to stand up.
I don't remember what I said exactly. I doubt it was particularly eloquent. I did my best to briefly explain that I had met Matt 5 years earlier here in Utah. That at that time, as a young gay Mormon man, I was struggling. I said Matt had been an example of peace and self-acceptance to me. That I, as Vicki described, had been caught up in Matt's arms of friendship. That because of Matt's goodness and his choice to live a life full of that goodness, I had been inspired. I thanked Matt's family and parents for helping instill in him that sense of unconditional love for self and others. I sat down and many others stood and expressed their love and gratitude for Matt. I don’t really remember doing it, but I know I looked up at the blazing fall Wasatch and the bold blue sky many times that afternoon. I wonder if I remembered that fall night in front of Matt’s parent’s house when he shared with me his intention to live a life filled with making the world a better place.
In November of that year, Naomi and I drove from NYC to Washington DC to attend a memorial service for all the WWF crash victims at the National Cathedral. The ceremony was incredibly moving. Because those who had died belonged to so many of the worlds many faiths, the ceremony consisted of short services, prayers, or readings representing many religious traditions. Besides the music and tributes, there was a Hindu Mantra, a Sikh Shabad, an Anglican Hymn, a reading from the New Testament, a Buddhist Meditation, and Matt’s brother read from Moroni 7 on hope and the pure love of Christ.
Later that year, while back in Utah visiting my own family in Orem, I drove up to Layton and sat with Matt’s parents in their living room. They are such kind, good humored, loving people—so honest and practical in their manner. It is not difficult for me to see Matt in their faces. Vicki told me how during the memorial in DC, as she listened to the beautiful and diverse expressions of faith in various languages, she realized how little separates us from each other. Stuart then asked me about my family, my studies, my writing and how being a gay Mormon had impacted my life. He explained that because of Matt he had become mindful of how much pain gay Mormon’s must experience. He wanted to know how I was doing. He listened as I told him that of course I have had my moments, but I was finding my way. I told him that Matt’s passing had made me think deeply about my choices and I knew that I wanted to recommit myself to making the most out of my life. Stuart said that Matt was honest and open with his family, but that Matt rarely expressed struggle, and if he did it was quickly followed by humor and laughter. Stuart said he wanted to understand his son and he asked me if Matt had ever talked about the difficulty of being Mormon and gay.
I started by telling them that my biggest fear when I chose to leave activity in the Church was that I would loose the "spirit" in my life--that I would no longer be able to be a good person.
I then told them about that fall night 5 years earlier in front of their house when I asked Matt how he managed so well. I said that Matt had told me he was at peace and that he was determined to focus on filling the world with good and making it a better place. I told them that Matt admitted he had questions, but that he was confident if he lived his life the best he could--filling it with goodness--it would all work out. I wished I could have said more, but that was really all Matt had said. He was a doer. He did things. He made the world a better place.
Vicki and Stuart thanked me and Stuart shared some very personal feelings and impressions he has had since Matt’s death. He then asked if it would be all right if we all knelt and prayed together. It was beautiful. I felt so understood, accepted and cared for by Stuart and Vicki. I have continued to communicate with Matt’s family and am blessed by their love and support.
Now, its 2 years later and I am sitting here in Russia writing this memory of my friend Matt. I started out by saying that what I wanted to say was rather simple.
And now 8 pages later I am still writing.
Clearly, I cannot sum up my feelings for Matt or what his life and friendship has meant to me in a few simple phrases. A life is a complex thing. Love is a complex thing—full of choice and responsibility.
I think Matt took tremendous responsibility for his choices and life. He loved life and he loved this world and its peoples. He chose to fill his life with goodness. He made the world a better place. He is a tremendous example to me. I am so thankful I knew him. I miss and love him.
Days before Matt's death, he and some of his fellow WWF workers chartered a small prop plane and flew over Mount Everest. The last e-mail I received from him was an invitation to view his photo album from that plane ride around the tallest point on earth. They are some amazing photos--solid gray peaks and ridges covered in permanent snow pushing up through cloudbanks and white fluttery trails.
I love thinking of Matt like that--up there looking down on the world he loved and worked to preserve. I love thinking of all that perspective in his eyes...
I guess I just wanted to record this here. To encourage myself and all of us, particularly those of us who may find ourselves cast in similar stories--Gay Mormons, families or friends of gay Mormons, Mormons and Gays, and just people who care—Do not be discouraged and disillusioned right now by this horrible, ridiculous near-sighted prejudice, anger and cruelty….
There is still love. There are good people—Gay and Mormon—who love each other and are willing to lay down the sword for a while and make the world a better place.
I want to make the world a better place too.
.jpg)