For Frying Out Loud Read Free

than thirty years into Barbara’s very visible gay rights crusade.
    And while I knew of her for years, I only got to meet her last summer. And only for one weekend. But it was a total immersion weekend, filled with astounding stories of early organizing, picketing, and the way things were.
    For the way things are, we can thank Barbara and her partner of 46 years Kay Lahausen. They were tireless and achieved a great deal in our struggle for equality. We all owe them – big time.
    When Delaware Stonewall Democrats planned their annual fundraiser last summer, they decided to honor two different parties. Their 2006 accolades were to go to Sarah and Jim Brady, for their wonderful spirit, local and national activism, and caring. The other honoree would be Gay rights pioneer Barbara Gittings.
    We had heard she wasn’t in the best of health, having fought cancer for years, and recently undergoing anothercourse of chemotherapy. She told Stonewall organizers she was hesitant to make the drive from her home in Wilmington to the beach by herself, as her partner Kay had mobility issues and wouldn’t be coming along. Bonnie and I volunteered to pick Barbara up on Friday night, transport her to Rehoboth and welcome her to our guest room.
    From the minute she hopped (and it did seem like a hop) into our car, this petite and lively woman with the delightful smile started peppering us with questions. She wanted to know where we lived, how we met, what movies we liked, the last book we read, how many siblings we had, if we were out of the closet to relatives, and dozens more inquiries. For our part we answered, exchanged a lot of laughs, and heard much of her story, too. Two hours later, when our car turned off Route One onto Old Landing Road, we were behaving like three old friends.
    Interspersed with the life stories, Barbara cautioned that she tires easily and might not be up for too busy a weekend. No problem, we said, our house is yours for resting, relaxing and whatever you need for the weekend.
    â€œWhere’s the best place for dinner?” she asked immediately, “I love great restaurants. And can I meet some of your friends?”
    While she disappeared into the guest room to change clothes, we invited four friends over for pre-dinner cocktails. When Barbara reappeared, she was wearing white tennis shorts, sneakers and a bright orange t-shirt with the slogan “Gay? Fine by Me!” on it.
    Our friends arrived, I mixed martinis and Barbara sat cross-legged on our sofa, one of my dogs in her lap. She told us stories about her involvement in those White House pickets (“I insisted that we had to dress conservatively”) and the early days of the organization Daughters of Bilitis – the first and most famous lesbian rights organization. We learned the inside story of her arranging for a gay psychiatrist, disguised to protect his identity, coming to speak at the National PsychiatricAssociation. That event led directly to the 1973 NPA vote to remove homosexuality from their list of mental illnesses.
    We offered Barbara a roster of Rehoboth restaurants and she selected a lovely upscale French place, for what turned out to be a fabulous dinner filled with great food, wine, and conversation.
    After dinner, our guest asked if we could go to the boardwalk, so we drove up past the Henlopen Hotel, where we could access the beach and a great view of Rehoboth by night. “Can we walk?” Barbara asked. “Sure,” we said, heading south along the boardwalk towards Rehoboth Avenue.
    Then we passed the Avenue, continued walking under the stars toward Funland, and quickly, all the while chatting about politics, reached the end of the boardwalk.
    â€œI’ll go get the car,” Bonnie said.
    â€œNo,” said Barbara, “let’s walk back. And get some caramel popcorn on the way!”
    If our guest tired easily, there was no evidence that night, even as Bonnie and I huffed and puffed