Memories of Tommy Ridenour by Lu Ann Stapleton Stanley Tommy lived near my friend, Dina Klemm, so it was through Dina that we met. We all congregated at the She in Forest Park Plaza and danced our way through summer evenings or played the latest video game, Pong. I was only 16 so used Tommy’s sister’s ID to get in. Thanks, Karen! Tommy was a great dancer and a colorful raconteur, telling stories in an amusing way to the delight of his friends. He reminded me of Paul Lynde with his dry wit and delivery. He actually met Lynde at The Stagedoor lounge when the Kenley Players were in town. We were at the She in 1973 when Tommy introduced me to his girlfriend, Rosie. It wasn’t long before they were married and had a son, Marc, who was born in 1974. At some point during the marriage Tommy understood that he was gay and he and Rosie subsequently divorced. Tommy moved to Pensacola, Florida where, for the next 15 years, he was a bartender and bar manager. Tommy felt at home in Florida where he was able to escape the anti-gay bigotry so common at that time in the Midwest. When he returned to Dayton in the early 1990s, times had changed. He worked at Jessie’s City Club downtown where he was treated like a king. Steve and I stopped by on a date night in 1993 to find Tommy holding court, serving drinks while regaling the crowd with wildly funny jokes, stories, and occasional zingers. Eventually, I learned that Tommy had been diagnosed with HIV. Despite his frequently debilitating illness, Tommy was determined to live life on his own terms. I visited him at Miami Valley Hospital where we shared stories about high school, about friendships that last, and about those that don’t. He was smart and, having been on the outside, he saw what people were truly like on the inside. When his eyesight began to fail, Tommy moved to McPherson Town where he immediately became involved in the Asbury Apartment community. He was a force of nature. In 1994, after Sam was born and when Tommy was near the end of his illness, Karen drove him to my house to meet Sam and to give me a gift - a beautiful blue baby outfit that Tommy had chosen. It was a true act of love and friendship intended to remind me of how much he cared. He was selfless to the end. Tommy died in 2005 at the age of 50. Tommy’s son, Marc, has his father’s wide smile and quick wit. He laughs often and exactly like Tommy. Marc and I work together at Coolidge Wall where I see him almost every day and where I’m reminded of a deep connection that has spanned more than 50 years.