The Good Ones

I found out tonight that Gail Lang, a food friend of mine and many others, is dying of stomach cancer. My first weekend in California this summer, I was driving down G St. and saw Gail's car outside her house. I pulled up behind it and ran up to her porch, stopping in to see her unannounced. She was sitting in her livingroom talking with a friend when she turned and saw me standing at her door with a big smile on my face. She let out a scream and jumped up to let me in. I hadn't seen her in a year and it was as if it had only been days. We hugged and she kept saying she couldn't believe I was there. We talked for a few minutes and then planned on hanging out the next day, so we could catch up. She seemed pleased with the person I had become seven years after we first met that evening at The Open Book. I had been in Sac seven months already and had gone through a lot. I was nursing a broken heart (big shocker!), getting used to being a professional editor, learning to pay my bills somewhat on time, and basically meandering through life waiting for things to happen. Was this "adulthood"? Having been in school for 20 years, I took for granted the ease with which I met people. It's easy when you're sitting next to someone day in and day out, suffering through boring lectures and endless homework assignments. But when school is all over, you have to work a little harder to meet people. I hadn't been trying too hard. Going through the motions seemed easy. But one night, I decided to get out. I took a walk in my new neighborhood in midtown and happened upon The Open Book. I walked in and was greeted by a 4'10 firecracker who loved it when women came through the front door. She immediately began talking to me about whatever she wanted to and lead me to the tables that occupied the cafe part of the bookstore. We immediately became friends. She was always happy to see me walk into the bookstore and make me my favorite drink. I was no longer in the comfort of Chico's community, but rather on my own in Sacramento with no homonation to speak of. Gail changed all of that. She recognized the baby butch in me right away and I recognized in her a mentor. She listened to me when I needed to talk and handed out advice when I asked for it. She took my youth and helped guide me in discovering my gay identity. She introduced me to some people and kept me away from others. She smiled at my frustration, understanding that I would be fumbling for a long time. But she knew I would be all right. I'm still fumbling, as we all know, big time, but probably would have been more so had I never met this woman. I will always consider Gail to be one of those people who helped me in my life. With both hands and all the energy she could muster in her petite frame, she challenged me on many fronts. She was like a gay mother hen who smoothed some of the rough edges I came to her with. She means so very much to me and has a good amount to do with the person I was in my 20s and am now. I wrote the other day that life is grand. It is. But sometimes it doesn't make sense. Gail is one of those good souls who come along very rarely in life. I'm lucky that I know her. As is everyone else whose path she crossed. I'm just happy that I got to spend so much time with her this summer. She came to my birthday party, donated 20 birthday dollars for a special purchase, and invited me for drinks. We laughed. We reminisced. And we analyzed society. Thank you for being in my life, Gail. You kick ass.