I took this picture of Sam Storicks in January 2004 when we met for lunch in the Castro. Sam passed away last night; he was 30 years old.
Sam (front) with Jeff, January 2004
My first encounter with Sam was through his friend Ryan who had an account on blogspot. Ryan and Sam were friends, and following a link from Ryan’s blog to Sam’s, I came to know a young gay man living in Tucson who worked in the military. Sam had a rough start in life and he was doing what he could to restore personal order. I was hooked on Sam’s blog: his writing was acerbic and intelligent beyond someone his age. When my blog popularity was much higher, I gave Sam space on my website for him to keep a blog, away from prying eyes. He eventually reserved his own domain and became a (truly) independent blogger.
It wasn’t until the fall of 2003 when we finally met. He was visiting California and we agreed to get together for a couple drinks. I was not ready for Sam’s personality, to be honest. I became so conservative in my daily life that Sam’s joie de vivre shocked me out of my comfort zone. Now, I look forward to people exceeding my expectations and I have people like Sam to thank for that.
We didn’t meet again until he moved from Tucson to San Francisco to be with Jeff. When I saw him the second time, Sam started taking prescription drugs to help battle depression. I sat across from Sam but he was not in his body. The drugs had reduced Sam to a man who was nothing like the acerbic, whip-smart guy I grew to know. I didn’t know how to interact with him, and I was worried.
That was the last time I saw Sam.
Sam and Jeff ran the course of their relationship, as relationships can sometimes do that. The prescriptions went away or Sam’s body finally learned how to process them, I’m not sure which outcome is the correct one. But Sam met a guy named Greg and they moved to Portland to live happily ever after. Strange how things can move so quickly when they’re presented online but there you have it. Sam became a popular DJ in his own right, spinning at clubs along the west coast and bear culture parties. When he wasn’t a DJ, he was a flight attendant posting on his social networks about all the adventures in the sky. His acerbic wit was as whip-smart as ever.
Last night, Justin and I were enjoying a cocktail when my friend Dennis called me. I could hear him crying as he told about Sam in the hospital and most likely ready to die. I spent my night between Justin and Facebook so I could, basically, watch Greg post status updates about Sam’s condition.
Greg wrote that Sam passed away last night, he was surrounded by his loved ones.
When I was in a former relationship, Bruce and I talked about death and funeral arrangements. (This is the sort of conversation topic I have with people, I like to think big-picture.) Bruce said that when he died, his soul would be with God and whatever friends & family wished to do with the body was their business. I hadn’t thought of death like that because the thought hadn’t occurred to me that funeral arrangements provide nothing more than closure for people still alive.
With the advent of the internet and social media, websites and pages exist for people who haven’t been with us for a long time. It is strange to see the electronic existence of a person who’s left this earth. Closure takes on a whole new level and, honestly, it is strange to think people can gain some peace of mind from posting messages on a dead person’s wall.
Today I am recording all of my passwords for Justin when, godforbid, I die. Whatever happens to my website and social network profiles, I leave in his capable hands.
