My Uncle Glenn died of AIDS at the end of August 2003. At the time of his death I became intrigued by the history of the AIDS especially those who passed away during the early days of the epidemic. My uncle was gay and although he was out to his friends in Boston he was not out with our family. We all knew but no one talked about it. As my family prepared his funeral none of his friends from Boston were notified. Although there was one man at the funeral that no one knew but I recognized him from one of my uncle’s photos. I think he was a past boyfriend.
Unknowingly, my family conducted his funeral in way that closeted his sexuality. This got me thinking of all those who died with out family members knowing or whose families refused to acknowledge their sexuality or friends who were part of their lives. One night I googled, the Names Project (aka AIDS quilt) I wanted to find a way to commemorate my uncle in a way that emulated his true self. Granted, the Boston Living Center held a memorial service for him (explain). But I wanted something grander something to let the world know he existed, he was a Diana Ross worshipping, Patti LaBelle loving, gay portrait artist in Boston. While looking at the many panels on the Names Project website from the famous Keith Haring and Michel Foucault to the many anonymous unnamed I saw a panel that changed me and piqued my curiosity. It had the lyrics to a song that I had always deemed as cheesy rock ballad. But the words displayed a panel dedicated to Ken Cameron: “Until forever is through, I’ll be over you” love Richard. That simple statement spoke to how devastating this loss was and how the Names Project might’ve been the only way Richard could express his grief. My thoughts drifted back to my uncle. I will never know if he had an amazing love, what his struggles were or what his life was like living out of the closet.
However I did get a glimpse of how others outside my family saw and loved my uncle. Two weeks after his funeral I picked up his portraits from his art exhibit at the Boston Living Center. There was a black man, average height, dark chocolate skin, and a nicely trimmed mustache sitting at the lobby desk. I told him I was here to pick up Glenn Harris’s artwork.
“Oh my God, you’re his niece Tori. The one who lives here. I’ve heard so much about you.”
The man proceeded to tell me that he had known my uncle since he first moved to Boston in the 80’s. They had been very good friends.
“He’s had a hard life. Last time we spoke he said that his mom passed away. How is Glenn?”
“He passed away two weeks ago,” I replied. I was doing a good job at holding back my tears. Walking around Boston when Glenn first passed away was hard. Every where I walked reminded me of him. But seeing this man’s facial expression change and tears start flowing freely so did mine. The director of the center came out of his office and asked what was going on. I told him who I was and very stoically the director responded, “We’ll have our own memorial service” as if the news of someone passing was routine.
“Your uncle was a very talented man.”
The receptionist who was still crying grasped my hand tightly and nodded. I thanked him for being there for my uncle and told him to let others know the new since I didn’t know any of his Boston friends. Two of the pieces from that exhibit hang in my office. One is a portrait of his muse and idol Diana Ross. In the drawing, Ms. Ross is singing and her hair is big and luscious. The other picture is what my uncle described as a dream he had. The drawing consists of an Egyptian goddess with black panthers on each side. These two portraits are my daily reminders of my uncle’s love of divas and his artistic ability. My other reminder is this Toto song since the song now symbolizes the unknown couple from the Names Project and never truly knowing the loves and loss of my uncle Glenn Harris. Instead of cheesy love ballad this song when I hear it becomes a brief moment of remembrance.
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