RIP Dana

Late last month I learned Dana died, not from COVID but from a series of ailments, some from birth, that never slowed him down.

I wrote on FB:

The world lost a good person this week.

Dana Swift 

and I met as teenagers living in Belgium. Thanks to him we kept in touch over the years. He had a solid heart. When he made a friend it was for life. I wish I had taken him up on his repeated efforts to reach out if I ever needed a friend. This is how I will always think of him 17-years old dressed in drag. Strutting to “My Girl,” a song I can’t hear without thinking of him. That and drinking lots of good beer. We were legal in Belgium.

There was so much more to say.

He taught me names are not gender-specific.

Dana was the first guy I met with the name "Dana." He told stories of being roomed with girls at a sleep away camp solely based on his name. 

He taught me not to use health as an excuse to not help people.

Dana was a paramedic, then a nurse (I believe). He went to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina and helped after 9/11. He hated having to give up his nursing career when his health made it too hard.

He taught me to not be afraid on stage.

The above picture of him dancing to "My Girl" says it all. During the same talent show we performed to Billy Joel's "Piano Man." One guess as to who played the lead. I was the "waitress who is practicing politics," while other friends acted out other parts.

He taught me to be a friend for life.

Dana really listened. We got together a few times since our return from Belgium. He lived near Binghamton, NY. A couple of times we got together when we drove through from Canada. Brief visits, but meaningful. One time we drove to his house to pick up a bike trailer Don used to haul mulch from the town compost. When you were with him, he gave his undivided attention. 

He told me a couple of times I could always reach out to him when I needed a friend. I wish I had.

Dana meant it when he said call anytime. Others may say that, but he lived that.

Many are grateful he lived long enough to usher in a new President because we knew that meant a lot to him.

Rest in Power, Dana.