Thanks for the indulgence of a re-publication. I loved my dear, old friend. I think he deserves to be remembered on this first anniversary of his death at the age of 54.
I read with sadness Nurse Kelley's diary about the death of kossack willb48. Our thoughts are certainly with his loved ones at this time.
Unfortunately, my FP today has to do with the loss of yet another member of our community who was also a good friend of mine. Someone whom I knew here and out there in the real world. I feel okay outing him here now that he is gone.
His name was Cary Toland and he lived in Seattle.
Photo: Andrew Adam Caldwell
Photo: Andrew Adam Caldwell
Cary went by the user name “fivetree” here at dkos. He was an old-timer around here, though largely a lurker. He spent much more time out doing than he did here high-fiving or hand-wringing. He and I occasionally discussed what was going on here at dkos. Cary occasionally linked something from dkos on his Facebook page. Cary's friend and Seattle blogger Joe Mirabella eulogized Cary out there on the web as an "unsung hero." He's right. Here at Bilerico is Joe's tribute to Cary.
In that article, Joe quotes Cary's friend and fellow activist Andrew Adam Caldwell (the photographer responsible for many of the pictures in this diary). Andrew knowingly says of his friend, "Cary was an inspiring example of a citizen activist who didn't just click and complain, but always showed up to demonstrate, register voters, canvass and phone-bank for initiatives and candidates--all with a pragmatism paired with his progressive idealism--with tangible results." Hear, hear.
Andrew took the great picture below where, between Patty and Barack, right there in the crook of Patty's arm, you can see Cary cheering his heart out when the Prez was here pre-election.
Photo: Andrew Adam Caldwell
Cary was a tireless force on the frontline of progressive politics in Seattle. Civil rights were his passion and his work for LGBT issues was legendary. A huge, happy point of pride for Cary was the passage of Referendum 71. Ref 71 confirmed Senate Bill 5688, a law extending the rights and obligations of domestic partnership. Cary worked himself to the bone for that measure. Here he is tabling:
Photo: Andrew Adam Caldwell
A little freeway visibility:
Photo: Andrew Adam Caldwell
And here he is celebrating the returns on election night 2009 when 71 prevailed.
Photo: Kendra Brossman
On the social front, Cary absolutely loved being a member of the Seattle Men's Chorus. The rehearsals, the performances, the cocktails after an evening of making music - he had a blast with all of it. He was so proud of the group and of the caliber of entertainment. He considered it an honor to be among the individuals with whom he shared the stage. Here he is performing with the chorus. Cary is just up and left of center.
Photo: Seattle Men's Chorus
There are certainly those who knew Cary better than I. Those who saw him more frequently. I knew Cary for a lot of years, but for me, Cary was a delightful addition to “events.” Birthdays. Fiestas. Oktoberfests. Soirees here in Portland and there in Seattle. Late evenings of great food, tasty libations, laughter, politics. Cary and my husband chewing over World War II campaigns, good-naturedly trying to out-detail one another with obscure military minutiae. Cary and I and other loved ones toasting to friends lost and celebrating friends shared.
Below is a picture of the two of us on a Cinco de Mayo night a few years ago at the home of our dear friends Don and Amy Masterson. Hmmm...the look on Cary's face tell's me that this was taken a bit late in the evening. ;-)
Photo: Some loveable drunk who snagged my camera.
Everything about Cary was big and gregarious and dramatic. He was warm and wry and irreverent. He was intelligent and sarcastic and kind. The thought of all of that being switched off is unimaginable. The abruptness of the loss is raw and jagged. Breath-stopping – like ice applied to a fresh burn. If I - from this distance - feel this way, I can only ache for those for whom Cary was a more frequent possibility.
Cary didn’t own a car. He was a public transit man. Three weeks ago, on the Monday evening before Thanksgiving, Cary stepped onto the bus on his way downtown to do some shopping. He stepped off of the bus at 3rd and Union and collapsed under the weight of a severe heart attack. At the hospital, they tried for over an hour to bring him back to us. Cary’s large and generous heart had apparently given all it could. He was 54 years old.
Cary is survived by his wonderful family, innumerable friends, and countless strangers whose minds were broadened by Cary's fervent, enthusiastic and undying belief that we are - all of us - equal.
I love this beautiful photo of Cary with his Mom, Sharon. Cary's family was - and is, of course - a close and loving one.
Photo: Kent Toland
I know that many will be tempted to encourage Cary to “Rest in Peace,” but, really? The only thing that makes me sadder than losing Cary is the thought of him “resting in peace.” So un-Cary-like. When it came to working for justice, Cary never slowed. He never took a challenge sitting down and he refused to let ideological idiocy go unscathed. I choose to picture him reacting the same way wherever he is now. He is out there canvassing and cajoling. He is persuading. He has found the person in charge and is making a few suggestions. He has set up a space to do some tabling. He is giving some dolt a piece of his mind. He is activating and agitating and advocating. He is carrying a sign. He is drinking a lovely, single-malt scotch. He is giving them hell.
Will you do me a favor? Next time election season rolls around, remember Cary for me, will you? And when you do – get up and go out and approach someone - fearlessly - the way Cary would have. Say, “Hi. I’d like to talk to you about something important. Do you have just a moment?” Then take a deep breath, and pour your heart into it.
That's all I've got, my friends. I'm shocked and empty and oh, so sad.
What's on your minds tonight?