My First Gay Mentor

Richard Skiles was my Junior High theater teacher and first gay mentor. He is the first person I remember feeling at complete peace with. I knew I could be who I was and all he would do is offer support and encouragement.

He would take a select few of us to movies at the Inwood Theatre - an arthouse theatre that plays mostly foreign and independent films. The first movie he ever took me to was Cyrano de Bergerac. It was my first foreign film with subtitles and I was enthralled. He opened my eyes to a whole other world out there.

At school I became his assistant. If I wasn't in another class, I found myself in his room - just hanging out, talking, sharing. When it was time to do plays, I was his Executive Director. He trusted me and spoke to me like an adult. He saw a lot of himself in me and I think it's why we clicked the way we did.

I can't express how comfortable I was around him. I wanted to spend every minute with him. I wasn't in love with him, but there was definitely a crush that I believe came about because of how much time I spent with him. He was the first gay man that I was that close to. It came as a shock to me the year I entered High School to find out that he was not returning to teaching because he was ill.

I had suspected AIDS, but at the time we'd never talked about it. We lost touch for about a year while I was acclimating to High School life. It wasn't until my Junior year when he came to see me in a play that I realized how serious it was. He walked with a cane and was very wobbly. I remember hugging him and realizing how frail he was - a shell of the man I remember from just a year before.

After seeing him at the play I decided it was time to reconnect. It was so nice to see him again. I began going by his house all the time. We would hang out for an hour or two at a time talking about everything - AIDS, theatre, his imminent death, life, etc. until he would tire and need to lie down. I learned more from him about accepting the hand you're dealt and dying with grace and dignity.

When my best friend, Cari, was killed I went to his house to talk. We spent a few hours together that day actually discussing his own funeral plans. He had a couple of very thick notebooks full of his plans. He had every minute planned out and he discussed it with such joy. As if he were looking forward to it. That was the last time I would see him.

The following week, on a Tuesday, I was preparing to go to an Amnesty International national meeting that just happened to be occurring in my town. I was invited to speak about Cari's life and death. She was the incoming President of our school chapter and had been scheduled to speak at the convention, so after her death they held a memorial of sorts. I was about to leave the house when I got the phone call that Richard had died the night before. I didn't go to the convention. In the span of two weeks I'd lost my best friend and my mentor, but it was his amazing outlook and attitude that helped me deal with his death. I was prepared for it, as much as one can be prepared.

In October I am walking in the Dallas LifeWalk in his memory. I am walking with Mark and the Rainbow Ranch team to raise money and to support my friends who are HIV+ or are affected by it. I hate asking for money - it goes against my nature. However, this is a cause that continues to affect me and so many of my friends. If you are able to give any kind of support, please visit my donation page or click on the link on the front page of my blog.