NY, KS, OK, TN and FL: Clarke Wight, Creme Puffs and Community
by Michael Malloy, LCSW
(Originally written for the newsletter of the non-profit I directed years ago)
Late in 1987 a few of us from across our denomination met with the desire to convene a gathering to encourage compassion within our churches toward those living with HIV/AIDS. The following July nearly 150 men and women met at beautiful Camp Taconic in New York State for three days. It was a time of dialog, education, catharsis and building relationships. For many of us, it was one of the best ‘church related’ meetings we’d ever attended…because it was honest, even raw at times. It was to this forum that Keith Smith (who had come to the Christian Counseling Services in 1983 where I was director) came as the ‘HIV poster child’ as he labeled himself. Keith was the one of us actually diagnosed with HIV while numbers of others of us were living with it in one way or another…with HIV+ friends, family members or clients. Several times tears flowed but they were good tears. Other times there was bust out laughter…often a release from the intensity of the emotion and stress surrounding HIV/AIDS—and the tension of serving these individuals and their families while the church at large could not accept them as gay or their disease.
A special treat at Camp Taconic was the food! Compared to any camp food I’d ever had, it topped anywhere…incomparable. A chef from one of New York cities finer restaurants prepared fresh pastries daily in addition to the fantastic meals.
It was over one of those cream puffs that I met Carol Gritton for the first time. Carol had been sent from denominational headquarters to cover the meeting. Following the conference Carol and I maintained sporadic contact. A few months later Carol called to tell me that she’d just learned that her own brother, Clarke was HIV+. Her shock was tempered some by what she had learned a few months before at Taconic. Clarke lived and had a good job in Jacksonville until he physically could no longer work. At that point, his parents who were not too far away, moved to Jacksonville to be better able to care for Clarke who decided to move in with his parents. Along the way, I learned that Carol was the niece of Joyce Smith, very familiar to me in that I’d known her and her husband Danny growing up in my home church in Tulsa. Joyce took my mother’s place as church secretary after mom’s first experience with her brain tumor. Joyce was a support for Clarke even from Oklahoma. (Joyce, years later, was the one who told me at my aunt Betty’s viewing, “Mike, we’ve never told you but you were born in the wrong family” meaning I was more my uncle and aunt’s son—long story which is written about in another blog entry).
Clarke began financially supporting our non-profit. I noted his phone number on one of his checks and called him to thank him for the support and to see how he was doing. I called on Tuesday, October 4 and we talked awhile. On Wednesday night, I got a call from Tulsa telling me that Clarke had died that morning.
His funeral was a celebration as many are. It was attended by many who Clarke had influenced on the job as well as other friends and family. His friends from the gay community also came to the funeral home. His family in their grief was pleased with the diversity of those who attended.
We never know where making new connections, new friends will go. What triggered my thoughts about this original writing was that Carol is one of my friends on Facebook even yet. Her parents continued to stay in touch and support the non-profit for a good while.
Taconic did exactly as we had hoped…topped off with great deserts.
Rewrite 3/2021