Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves installment 1: The Shrine

[mitchtv]

Sunday, January 27, 2008
I miss Sonoma Valley. I miss the Shrine. I missed my friends, so I put in a shrine. It was a great way to honor my dead, gay, buds…
Marquita or Mariquita as he was also called, was there. His name was Mark Ryan. He was living in a medium sized commune in the Sunset when I first met him. It was at least 50% gay, and he was one of the few worker bees in the crowd. No matter what had gone on the night before, Mark got up and took Muni down to work for the old Pacific Bell Company, south of Market. The name Marquita was a corruption of his nom de plum “Mariquita Cocaigne”, which he used to order record and book clubs. . The address was on its way to becoming notorious., and it was one of the first stops for the FBI when they were searching for Patty Hearst. .
Things were different to gays in the 70’s, before the epidemic. One thing, everyone had a drag name. Another, communes had names too, there was the Page St. Palace, the Footlights Club , if I remember any more I will mention them in the various stories. Oh yes, please excuse the occasional confusion of gender pronouns. We all had names, and personalities too, and we glorified our feminine sides at times..
Back to Mark. And Mariquita : it really meant fem to Jose “Carmen” Miranda, who lived there also, for a time with me. Carmen would gladly pick up a bowl of fruit and dance around with it on her head, to show the world her claim on the Brazilian bombshell’s name.. Mark was small, hairless, and blond and pretty, so the name worked out well for Jose, for whom Mariquita was the fem for maricon in his native Argentina. Mark had traveled around the world himself at a very young age. By young, I mean before 22 years old. We would always beg him to tell us the story of how he got fucked in the great pyramid, and he’d generally oblige. He had lots of stories. We became friends that year in the mid 70’s when Jose and I arrived back in SF without many resources, except for one, Mark.. Mark had been sending my check to various South and Central American capitals for me to endorse, and return express, then continue on our surface trip to Buenos Aires and back from New Orleans. We could always depend on Mark to do the right thing. That is, until even our world traveling Mark got it wrong and confused Tegucigalpa with Guatemala. We’ll get into that too. Mark was an early casualty of Aids , which he struggled with valiantly. He built a house in the Long Valley in Laytonville , and I visited him regularly where he lived with his friend, not lover, Jim
Better known to the local queens as Filthea, because of his work in the sex trade. When he began to get sick enough to need more care, Filthea told him coldly “ you can die here, but don’t leave me any debts.” As the time approached Mark sent this short note to the Bay Area Reporter, published 11/29/84
The Call
Farewell Tip! Killed by Kaposi’s sarcoma, Oct.20. Give my love to Gary(Juanita) who would sneer at it, to David and Jack who knew it, and to Jerry who was it. To all our precious Gay brothers who died in a state of grace for having died for love. There’s quite a gathering going on, on the Other Side. I sometimes feel I’m in an in between reality- half their with them, half here with all of us. Has anyone else felt their call?
He visited me and my partner Ed in our small farm in Sonoma Valley inAprili’85. . We could see he was having problems. At least he was being cared for.. He died in June from one of the worst complications of Aids there is , called Stevens-Johnson syndrome, which presented symptoms of a burn victim, and was extraordinarily painful. I admired his bravery as he expelled the hovering priest from his hospital room. His big sister wrote his obituary as follows:
Mark Ryan
On the morning of June 23, at the hour of his birth and following the summer solstice., Mark move on peacefully, nourished in the warmth and support of his lovers, friends, and entire family. He was 32. His ashes were returned to the sea at his beloved San Gregorio on June 25, following a memorial service.
After a long illness with ARC and AIDS he died as he lived: With quiet dignity, astonishing humor, enormous patience, and the music of Mozart.
Marquita was a talented writer, graphic designer, and horticulturist; a gifted friend, nurturing lover, supportive son, brother, and nephew; a lover of men and of nature; a sexual celebrant and a connoisseur of cigarettes and good coffee. . Comfortable and proud of his sexuality, he was tolerant of human weakness and consistently impatient with human bigotry and deliberate cruelty. He was outspokenly committed to the struggle of gay men and lesbians for complete acceptance. His adventures and pagan perspective live on in the journals he left in our care.
He was not a saint, although he did read all of Proust. He left the planet better for his gentle presence.
For those who lovedhimt here is a large space that will always be there, and always should be

It is fitting that Marks picture held a place of honor at The Shrine,
The Shrine of the Homosexual Predecessors.
shall I go on?

[orleans]

1. yes. please go on. you've got my attention--and interest.

thanks for letting me know you posted this.

go ahead, mitchtv--continue.

[dsc]

2. Great story so far

Can't wait to hear more.