I just learned Doug Leland, a neighbor, died. He had been suffering from cancer. I got involved with him purely by chance a couple of years ago when, on Facebook, I saw a note from him saying he needed some help with someone bringing him coffee and a morning breakfast sandwich because he was trapped at home due to swelling in his legs.
(His usual set of close friends who took care of him, were all, by coincidence this one week, out of town or unavailable.)
For some reason that day, I woke up with the resolution that if I see an “I need help” note on Facebook from one of my friends that I would say yes. I sent him a note. He lives in our complex at the other end of the block.
He asked it I'd go to Dunkin Donuts, only a half block farther on 10th Avenue. He had it all called in and ready to go. When I brought it to him, he tried to give me money but I refused. I explained that this is part of my morning walk and it’s no bother to bring it.
This became a little routine. His cat liked me. We would sit and visit. One day he said, “I auditioned for The Big Voice and you turned me down.”
I said, “I didn’t remember that!” (Back when we replaced ourselves Off-Broadway). That made me feel a little bad.
At this time I was really getting into cooking, so I would bring him soup and other items that I had made for Jim and myself. Wash his dishes, take out garbage.
One morning he said he was in a hospital room over on the far east side and he NEEDED his particular coffee.
I said no problem, and I went to the Dunkin’ Donuts, rode the M42 bus to wherever he was and delivered it. He kept trying to give me money. Then he asked me why I was doing this, since we didn't really know each other except for nods around the neighborhood (he was the tenant organization president for awhile).
I told him that it's more of a blessing for me to be of service. I believe human beings lose their sense of identity when they're not actively being of service. How wonderful the swell in our chests when we actually do something that really helps someone else, even if it's something small, like helping pick up someone's spilled grocery bag or, as I found myself later, sitting in a moving van while my friend moved himself into a new apartment -- that was another "Help Me" I responded to that week.
I learned, when I was flat on my back in the hospital trying to hold on to as much self-control as I could, how selfish I was being by trying to keep people from helping me. Until I finally couldn't lift my head up off the pillow. I finally just said, "I surrender. I can no longer care for myself."
After at time, I didn’t hear from him for a while. He declined help when I sent him notes. I saw him on Facebook a lot and I guess his friends took over for doing what I was doing. But sadly, he was in decline.
And now I see that he has passed away.
It was interesting entering his little one room world of glitter, show posters, veils, a desk and tons of silvery souvenirs from lives past. A Show Family lives as one for a brief while and then everyone transforms from lovers to distant cousins at the snap of a closing night notice. And what remains is a feather here, a key chain there. And memories. So many glorious memories.
[I told my friend and acting teacher, Andy Gale, this story and he said Doug Leland used to man the table in the Actor's Equity lounge, directing traffic. He said Doug was the kindest person he'd ever seen doing that. He made everyone feel comfortable and welcome.]
Doug, I'm glad we got to spend a little time together. I'm sorry if you suffered in your final days. You lived an active life as an actor and activist. And you made that little world better for it.
And that brings us our link of the week, which is a rare video of Stephen Bienskie singing "Going It Alone" Off-Broadway. His performance was one of the greatest acting performances I've ever witnessed especially him with Bob Stillman singing this together at the end. Amazing.
https://youtu.be/7qTe-UHPSPM?si=UfNeeH-w3I6d6Ewe
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