Barbara Gittings passed away too soon, on Feb. 18 at age 75, after an incredibly courageous battle against breast cancer. She was a young 75, vigorous until close to the end, and passionate about her cause, probably until her last second of life. I’ve known of Barbara Gittings and her activist work almost from the moment I peeked my nose out of the closet in 1982, already more 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 owe them big time.

When Delaware Stonewall Democrats planned their fund-raiser last summer, they decided to honor two different parties. Their 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. (Shown at right, Barbara Gittings and Jim Brady)

We had heard she wasn’t in the best of health, having fought cancer for years, and recently undergoing another course 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.

"Where’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 Psychiatric Association. That event led directly to the 1973 APA vote to remove homosexuality from their list of mental illnesses.

We offered Barbara a roster of Rehoboth restaurants and she selected Chez la Mer 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.

"I’ll go get the car," Bonnie said.

"No," 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 returning to the car.

Back at home, there was a message on the phone from Barbara’s partner Kay, asking if we would please take photos of the next day’s Stonewall event for their memorabilia collection.

The next day saw breakfast out, terrific stories, sharing of views, a little shopping at Lambda Rising and then the Stonewall event.

With perfect summer weather, and a large crowd, the stage was set for the big backyard event at a home along Silver Lake. A host of officials spoke, along with attending politicos, and finally we got to the honors. It was a pleasure to honor them for their wonderful activism. Both the Bradys and Barbara made passionate and effusive remarks.

Stonewall presented Barbara with a lovely glass bowl, which she excitedly held over her head for all to see as she challenged us to keep up the fight.

Following the cocktail hour event it was off to dinner again. This time Barbara chose Confucius where we had another wonderful gourmet meal and more animated conversation. Bonnie and I were a little sad, because our weekend together was coming to an end.

On Sunday morning, Bonnie cooked pancakes and we sat around our table chatting about Rehoboth and Delaware politics. Then it was time to return Barbara to Wilmington. I don’t think any of us wanted the weekend to end. As we drove North, Barbara wanted to know everything she had failed to ask us on the trip down and we wanted to know more about her career. It turns out that she and Kay mostly held administrative jobs to fund their real jobs as gay rights activists. We realized all the things Barbara and her contemporaries went through to make our current lives here in Rehoboth possible.

When we dropped her off at home, we felt like we had made a wonderful new friend and she promised to be in touch as well.

Through September we exchanged a few e-mails, and I soon got a package—a wonderful autographed book full of interviews of the early gay rights activists and quite a bit about Barbara herself. She also told me to look for a new documentary in which she was interviewed.

In exchange, I sent along the photos from the Stonewall event. I was caught up in other things last fall—downtown festivals, political races, and putting the finishing touches on my next book. It was a while before I realized that I hadn’t heard from Barbara regarding the package of pictures.

And I was totally stunned and saddened last week when I heard that she had passed away, with Kay at her side.

Bonnie and I were unhappy that we hadn’t gotten the chance to see Barbara again, but I was torn. Selfishly I’d rather remember her charging in and out of our house, curly grey hair askew, asking questions, laughing out loud and wearing her "Gay? Fine by Me!" t-shirt.

You’re going to miss her whether you knew her or not.