HUGH ALLEN

MBE

6/12/2018

Hugh was an aspiring actor and took to supporting himself doing book-keeping. He worked part-time in the church office. We would talk occasionally and I found him to be an intelligent and charming guy. He informed me that he wasn’t “religious.” I think he was fearful that I might try to push my religion on him which is the last thing I would do.

At times it would come up that he had no communication with his parents. Years before when they had found out that he was gay they cut themselves off from him.  It was obvious this was a source of real pain to him. He loved to talk about an old 200 year old home up near Woodstock that he and his partner bought. He loved the place and spent as much time as he could there.

Hugh began to complain about various ailments and he started missing more and more work. His partner told me that he had been taken to St. Vincent’s Hospital and had been diagnosed with AIDS. Jeraldine and I went to see him and found him in a private area in the ER. I was struck by how much weight he had lost since our last meeting. He was groaning as we approached but brightened when he saw us. He had Kaposi Sarcoma on his face and arms.  I began to ask appropriate priestly questions: how was he feeling, was he eating? sleeping, etc. The conversation wasn’t relaxed. Jeri didn’t know him as well as I did but she cut right through the formality and said to Hugh; “Would you like for me to give you a foot massage Hugh?”  He softened. His whole demeanor changed. His shoulders lowered and he responded: “Oh yes.” Jeri checked with the nurse nearby then she pulled the sheets off Hugh’s feet. They were swollen and covered with Kaposi. She took a lotion and began to tenderly rub his feet. He closed his eyes and said over and over: “Thank you. Thank you.” I did the appropriate priestly things. Jeri did the intimate human things. She was the real priest.

One time after he had gone home from the hospital something very strange happened.

One day I had made arrangements to visit him at his apartment. I went there but he wasn’t home. I waited for a while outside but he didn’t show up. I then went down to SOHO to join Jeri and Carol who were shopping there. After a while we hailed a taxi to go home. When we got in the cab there was a cane inside. Jeri told the driver who said he would turn it in to Lost and Found but Jeri told him to take to the last person’s address…that they would need the cane. We went to our destination and I realized it was Hugh’s address. Hugh was waiting outside hoping that the taxi driver who had his cane might return with it. He was standing on his front steps when we drove up. It was eerie. It was fate. In a city of 8 million people and 30,000 taxies, what are the odds of something like this happening?

As time went by Hugh became largely bed-ridden and Jeri became one of his most regular visitors. She and Hugh became close. They would have long talks, Hugh sitting in his favorite recliner. Jeri sitting on Hugh’s bed. He deteriorated and ultimately could fight the virus no more and he died. I conducted a service for him in New York attended by his sister from New Mexico and a few friends. I was unable to go to Woodstock for his graveside service but Jeri went and was asked to ride along in the car with his sister who shared with Jeri about the sad family breach.  They held hands during the service. Afterward they visited Hugh’s beloved old home then drove back to NY. Jeri kept touch with her after the event.

Hugh was a dear young man who died too young. The rejection he received from his mother and father must have broken his heart. He didn’t have a chance against the AIDS Virus.

And then there’s Jeraldine. Ever the Friend. Ever the Empathetic. Often the Warrior. Ever the True Priest.