The first gay man I ever met.

My uncle, Ovilia Mitchell Jr., died today. Uncle Mitch (wouldn't you want a nickname?) was suffering from Alzheimer's for the last four years and died alone in Hartford, Connecticut. He was the oldest of eleven children, my father being the "middle" child. He was predeceased by his father and a younger brother, Robert, who died in Vietnam. My grandmother has now had to bury her son, her husband and another son.

Uncle Mitch was the first gay person I've ever met. Not being extremely close with my father's side of the family, my first memory of Uncle Mitch occurs around 25 or so years ago. I was attending a baby shower for my cousin Elaine (my dad's oldest sister's daughter) with my mom. Some of the men were in the bar of the Bristol Club while the "womenfolk" fawned over pastel pinks, blues, yellows and greens. I remember "admission" to the shower was jars of baby food. My cousin Kathy and I were marveling at the amount Elaine had gotten. Kathy and I were close even though we lived hundreds of miles away from each other.

We ran out behind the club to where there was a barbeque pit and my Uncle Mitch was there. I'm not sure if he recently came out of the closet or if this was old news to the family. All I knew is that Uncle Mitch had someone who used to be his wife and his daughter Dawn. I'm not clear on the exact wording that was used, but the gist of the conversation between Uncle Mitch and some of the male family members was that he would be going in to join the baby shower and it was most definitely ok because he was gay.

I thought gay was happy and wondered why the other men weren't happy that Elaine was having a baby. Babies were great! I was a rather rude, impertinent child who never shyed away from asking the questions that popped into her head. I asked Uncle Mitch what made his gayness so special and why he was the only one happy. All this time later, I think that he was rather offended by my question but explained that he didn't like girls, he liked boys. And, if I wanted to know more about it, I'd have to ask my parents.

Yah, this cleared it up for me. He didn't like girls, but he was going to go inside where ALL the girls were??!?!?!?!?! Eventually, my parents delicately explained what it meant to be gay. I understood it the best that I could. For now on, at all the "girl parties" my Uncle Mitch would be there. And that was cool with me....he always had candy in his shirt pocket!

As I grew up, we drifted apart from my father's side of the family even further. Christmas, Wedding and Funerals were when I'd see them....until Uncle Mitch and Freddie moved from Florida to Rhode Island. Uncle Mitch threw the coolest parties, gave the biggest hugs and loved life to it's fullest. Freddie died about 10 years ago from AIDS....and Uncle Mitch died alone. My father is devastated by his loss and I sit here full of sorrow for watching my dad deal with this.

I believe, to this day, that I have never discriminated against the Gay-Lesbian community because of my Uncle Mitch. He paved the way for an open conversation and full acceptance....and that from a Roman Catholic family!!! I only regret that I didn't go and visit him more and that my father won't get a "proper" good bye for his oldest brother.