Making Flippy Floppy

Byron was truly one of the most delicate, gentle people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. One of his worst fears was offending someone, and he would go out of his way to preface even the vaguest of off-color commentary with apologies. He was a quite shy at times, always proper, always poised, sensitive and kind-of easily embarrassed but able to laugh it off. He was refreshingly free of games and bullshit. He was a small-town boy deep inside and no matter how debauched things got, he could never shed his charming layer of innocence and naivety. He would often find amazement in things that most people would deem as mundane and overlook. He was one of the only people I’ve known who made it into his 30’s without ever sitting behind the wheel of a car – I guess he just never felt the need to get a driver’s license. Other people’s needs seemed to always take priority above his own, and he was glad to oblige. Byron was the quiet mousey type at the party who would suddenly become the center of attention, instigating everyone to follow his example and do something a little naughty.

His skills as a hairstylist were legendary in CDA. It was something he really enjoyed doing, and it showed in his work. From men’s buzz cuts to women’s glamorous up-dos to lesbian mullets, he worked them all with panache and his customers were always happy. So many nights, someone would sashay into the bar proudly showing off their fabulous new Byron ‘do. Recently he had taken his career to the next level with a gig at a chi-chi salon in downtown Spokane, and by all reports he loved his new position. In the last couple of days, I’ve heard several friends say they’ll never cut their hair again now that he’s gone to that big fabulous salon in Heaven.

Byron was never purposely flamboyant, but was cursed with effeminacy. He was out and proud as possible, but ultimately wanted to just blend in and be regular guy. He didn’t dress outrageously, usually preferring a pair of snug Levis and a t-shirt and those legendary, ever-present penny loafers. (God, the shoes! The shoes we loved to hate, god bless 'em! They ought to be bronzed – we can’t let them end up at Goodwill or something terrible like that.) Unfortunately, his gentle and effeminate nature was apparently a threat to the masculinity of many insecure North Idahoan assholes. I’ll never understand why Byron always seemed to get the rough end of this particular stick more than the rest of us. He was often harassed and taunted, even mugged on the street once simply because of the way he walked or spoke. There was the time he rudely called "faggot" and was pushed violently off the stage at the club while dancing and minding his own business. His reaction was to not react but to simply vacate, never coming back with a well-deserved “fuck off”, never throwing a punch or scratching out eyeballs. He was above all that, choosing to remain poised and ignore them. Sadly, you could tell that it did sometimes bother him in a core way, eventually choosing to avoid a lot of public appearances entirely as to not end up in a potential situation. In the last few years, Byron had seemed to have resigned himself to be a homebody, leaving the scene to suffer from his absence. Again, right now all we have to go by is speculation as to why he chose to end his life in such a tragic manner. What we can be sure of is that delicate Byron was suffering from extreme heartbreak. Heartbreak is the bleakest of afflictions and it often seems there is no way out from under its dark spell. Indeed, there are two ways: one is simply the passage of time and the other is the unfortunate way Byron chose. I have felt heartbreak in many different forms but it’s hard for me to fathom a broken heart so bad that it would lead to the decision to end it all. His was such a huge heartbreak that it's as if it shattered when he died, creating dozens of new heartbreaks in the hearts of those who loved and cared about him. Normally, I’m not remotely religious, and maybe I’ve read too many metaphysical books, but I’d like to believe in the idea of fate and that perhaps we are all pre-destined to die in a manner that we choose before we’re even born. Some of us are here only long enough to serve our purpose, or learn our lesson, or serve as a lesson to others, or whatever it may be, then we’re gone, “crossed over” as they say and then perhaps we return to live out an entirely different scenario, and the cycle repeats. It’s too early to tell what the ultimate reason or purpose was for Byron’s relatively short stay here in this lifetime, but I know in my bones that at the very least his positive light will forever shine in the memories of those who knew him.

I hope it's not in poor taste to end this tribute with a Blondie quote, but I know Byron would appreciate it: “Die young, stay pretty." In other words an early death brings eternal youth, and we will continue on aging through the years, suffering the ravages of time and tide, while dear Byron will forever remain in our minds pert, gorgeous, and fabulous as ever.

PS You can read Brian Hardison's thoughts and memories of Byron here.

If you knew Byron and would like to pay your respects and share memories, a memorial is being held at Mik-n-Mac's on Sunday, July 20 at 2PM.

# posted by OrangeTV @ 7/20/2006 10:09:00 AM