Saying Goodbye to Andy

It was the evening before Andy's thirtieth birthday and his friends were assembled to celebrate with him. But this was more than a routine birthday party; Andy was in bed, dying from a mysterious ailment that was identified as "gay cancer." His immune system had shut down and he was too weak to speak. We all gathered to say goodbye.

Growing up in Middle America in the 50's, we talked about some kids who we labeled as "queer." We really were unaware of anything called "homosexuality," but we could sense that some of our schoolmates were somehow different. Some we bullied.

My first real gay friend was Scot. A group of my students at Capital University Law School graduated in 1978. I had worked with them while they were students setting up a program to teach "street law" to high school students and we had been an effective team. When David, Jennifer, and Scot decided to hang out a shingle, I accepted their invitation to serve as "of counsel" to their firm.

At that time, Scot was struggling with coming out to his friends, family, and associates. We provided comfort and support, and I learned the effort needed to be a gay man in the 1970's. Scot was and remains a true friend, whom I respect and honor to this day.

It was through Scot that we met Herb and Andy, and we all became close friends. My wife, Donna, became particularly close to Andy when he disclosed to her that he had never learned to read. She undertook the project and worked with him to master that essential skill. We all grew to love them like family.

Over the years we made many close friends who just happened to be gay or lesbian. To us, they were just people we cared about. The realities of our relationships wiped away any remaining remnant of the idea that LGBT folks were any different than our other friends. We grew increasingly impatient that our LGBT friends were denied the freedoms and respect that we enjoyed.

When I left the bench and started practice in 1995, I hired our niece Staci as a paralegal. When Staci decided to go to law school, I was delighted and hoped she would become my associate one day. However, when her graduation neared, she told me that she did not think that Family Law was the right fit for her. I told her I would release her if, and only if, she helped me identify a classmate of hers who would be interested in joining the firm.

She told me she had a classmate and friend named Kerry McCormick who she thought would be interested and would fit in well. "However," she said, "she is a lesbian. Would that matter?" "Nope," I answered. After meeting Kerry, I asked her to come to work with me. She accepted. Today she is my law partner, and I couldn't imagine a better one.

Andy started to get sick, but no one could identify the illness. He developed a series of symptoms that were slowly recognized as the result of the collapse of his immune system. He was not only the victim of a vicious virus, but of an uncaring government that refused to fund research into this disease that was beginning to ravish the gay community. Andy had AIDS before it had a name.

The night of his birthday party, each of us spent a few moments telling him how we felt about him and how sorry we were that he was so desperately ill. We all loved him and his kind and gentle soul.

The next morning, on his thirtieth birthday, Andy passed away. His family, which had shamed and ostracized him, tried to prevent his gay friends from attending his funeral.

Last week, Indiana passed and its governor signed shameful legislation permitting places of public accommodation to act out of their hatred and refuse to serve LGBT people. I am so sorry, Andy. I promise I will never stop fighting to right this horrible wrong.