Any Dream Will Do
(Webber, A L) Performed by Donny Osmond
I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain
To see for certain what I thought I knew
Far far away, someone was weeping
But the world was sleeping
Any dream will do
I wore my coat with golden lining
Bright colors shining, wonderful and new
And in the east, the dawn was breaking
And the world was waking
Any dream will do
A crash of drums, a flash of light
My golden coat flew out of sight
The colors faded into darkness
I was left alone
May I return to the beginning
The light is dimming, and the dream is too
The world and I, we are still waiting
Still hesitating
Any dream will do
Give me my colored coat, my amazing colored coat!
Give me my colored coat, my amazing colored coat!
To return to my timeline from two weeks ago, I was working at Marlowe's, the bar/restaurant at the Citadel Theatre, in 1992 when Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat did a brief run there; with Donny Osmond in the lead and everything. (I didn't go see it, and it's strange that even with Dave as a Theatre major and me working at the biggest live theatre in the city, the only production I ever saw there was Man of La Mancha; and only that because I went with Dave's friend Stephen.) One day Donny Osmond came in for lunch with the Artistic Director, and as I grew up on The Donny & Marie Show, I was mildly starstruck to see him sitting in the restaurant. Starstruck enough that I asked the waitress who was serving him if she would ask Osmond for an autograph (made out to Dave, of all things; he grew up on that show, too, after all). Osmond pleasantly complied, and resumed his conversation with the AD - which went on for hours, causing the waitress to stay longer than her usual shift; long after the rest of the restaurant was closed, this poor waitress was obliged to keep going back and asking the pair if she could get them anything else. When they were finally ready to leave, the waitress presented them with their lunch bill, which Osmond generously offered to pay - leaving the waitress with exactly zero tip. I have no idea if stiffing her on a tip was Osmond's revenge for her disturbing him for an autograph, or if he is just routinely a cheapo, but she certainly deserved better after hanging around waiting on them all afternoon. Note: Dave wasn't all that impressed to get the autograph. Huh.
But while I did partially choose this song to record the story about Donny Osmond, my true intent is to talk about my old friend Curtis. I know I've written about him quite a few times now - about how we met when we were both hired to work at Bonanza, how we were in V.O.M.I.T. together in university, how he moved to Edmonton first and gave me and Rob a place to sleep we when later followed - but I don't know if I've really captured how close we were. I was the first friend that Curtis came out to (and while I was surprised, I was, naturally, immediately okay with it), and when he graduated high school, I glammed up and went to his Prom with him - not necessarily as a "beard", but to leave his small-town, small-minded classmates with the knowledge that they never knew him or his life outside of school at all. We spent countless evenings at the Riverbottom, making up songs or philosophising. I spent countless evenings at Curtis' apartment during university so he could console me about what a jerk my boyfriend was as we drank instant coffee and knitted or played Scrabble. This closeness continued on as we both made our ways up to Edmonton and began our adult lives - and it's because we were so close that it was all the sadder when our friendship became irrevocably damaged.
Dave and Curtis got along fine as well, and when the roommate in our basement suite moved out, Curtis moved down there from our guest room. During this time, Curtis was heavily involved with Edmonton's gay community, and he introduced us to their court system. Primarily focused on drag queens, the court would hold charity events - mainly lip-synching shows - and in those pre-Pride days, the court not only served to bind their own community together, but promoted activism and reached out to the wider community. While the big cheese in the court was always the Empress, she had her ladies-in-waiting, and there was a Prince and a Princess - my apologies if I'm not getting these details quite right - and as these were all elected positions, Curtis wanted to be on the court and he ran for Prince (one of the few non-drag queen positions). Dave and I helped Curtis make posters and we came out to support him when he performed in shows leading up to the election. (I hand-sewed Curtis a monk's cowl when he did 88 Lines About 44 Women and painted his face like Elmer Fudd when he did I'm Too Sexy; I added these songs in a different context before, but they will both always be tied to seeing Curtis lip-synch them on stage at a gay bar as well.) Curtis did win this bid for Prince, and at one of the first shows he participated in as a member of the court, he borrowed someone's Joseph coat and did Any Dream Will Do (so that's full circle - it's not a coincidence that in the header photo I selected, Donny Osmond appears to be draped in a rainbow flag).
When Dave and I got married, we understood that most of our Edmonton friends wouldn't be able to afford to travel to Ontario for the wedding, and when Curtis said that he couldn't come, we weren't surprised. It wasn't until years later that Curtis told me his feelings had been hurt that I didn't have him in my wedding party and that that's why he refused to make the trip - I may even have said something unthinking at the time like, "As my oldest friend, it's too bad I can't have you as one of my bridesmaids"; I had never seen a "bridesman" or "man of honour" and it honestly never occurred to me that I could include him as such - and despite my always being supportive and accepting of him, this was apparently the first time that Curtis thought that I was ashamed to publicly associate myself with him as a gay man.
Another misunderstanding: There was a rumour going around that in the parking garage of one of the local theatres, an actor was caught in flagrante delicto with a casting director. As we were discussing it, I said that the idea of whoring oneself for a part was made worse by the fact that the actor was straight and the director was not; not being attracted to the other man made it an unnatural act. Curtis lost it and said I was being homophobic, and in the face of his anger, I couldn't get him to understand the point I was trying to make - and it wasn't until much later that I put together the right analogy: It would have been like Curtis having sex with a woman to get a job; not being attracted to her would have made it an unnatural act; worse than a straight man sleeping with that same woman for the same job. Despite always being Curtis' ally, I have no doubt that he questioned my inner thoughts after this; a willful misunderstanding.
When Dave and I bought our first house, we looked for one with a basement suite for Curtis. In the end, we found a former rooming house, and although what it did have was a semi-finished basement that was all for his use, he had to share the main floor (including a bathroom with a shower that only he used) with us. And that worked out fine: I'd come home from work (and later, from school) and find Dave and Curtis playing Mario Brothers together, and we'd be like a family: me cooking dinner and calling the boys to the table (Ahhhh, we've only got one more life left.) Eventually, Curtis would grumble about the basement being too cold in the winter, and it was hard for me and Dave to be too sympathetic because he rarely paid us any rent.
As a matter of fact, Curtis became so involved in the court over the years (which involved travelling to other courts for their "Balls"), that he rarely worked enough to support himself, and Dave and I (who fed and housed Curtis) began to feel taken advantage of. Over the years we bought Curtis' car from him to keep him afloat, and loaned him money against his few possessions (like a pawn shop that would never actually keep his stuff or charge him a fee). Even so, Curtis eventually owed us quite a bit of money, and even if that's the saddest thing to come between friends, I was in a hard position between Dave (who was understandably less sentimental about the situation) and Curtis (who didn't see the problem with not actually paying rent but still having the nerve to ask me to hide up in my bedroom so his overnight guest wouldn't feel too shy to come up and have breakfast with him). Tension grew between us until we were barely speaking to each other. One day, I was scraping the paint off of a windowsill while Curtis sat in the next room, and after a long, uncomfortable silence, Curtis said, "I'm thinking maybe I should move out." I was actually shocked - why should he feel aggrieved here? - but without a pause I replied, "I think maybe that would be best." And Curtis did soon move out, and I never heard from him again.
Ten years of friendship lost over money, and while I kept thinking that it can't have been just about the money, I can only assume that Curtis worked up other justifications in his mind: What about me not asking him to be in my wedding party? What about me calling gay sex an unnatural act? (Which I never actually did say.) What about me sticking him in a dark and frosty basement and actually expecting to be paid for it? I'm sure that Curtis left in a huff, thinking he owed us nothing.
And yet: One night, my brother Ken came to Edmonton to visit, and although I hadn't worked at Sha Na Na's for years, we decided to go there for the evening. We drank far too much, and while Ken and I actually worked ourselves up to tears discussing our unhappy childhoods (I remember forcefully stressing that if Ken hadn't chosen to be a delinquent, our father wouldn't have been so awful), Dave didn't want any part of our conversation and he worked himself up to a confrontation with Curtis. Dave suddenly jumped up and declared that he was going to find Curtis and get his money back from him. He was gone forever - which Ken and I hardly noticed because we were pretty drunk and totally self-absorbed in our pity party - and when Dave came back he said that he had walked all the way to the other side of downtown to the posh revolving restaurant where Curtis worked - stomping his feet and making himself madder and madder - and when he got there, he roared at the first person he saw, "Where's Curtis?" This poor guy stammered that Curtis wasn't working that night, and Dave turned around and stomped all the way back - surprised to find me and my brother slurring and in tears. Who knows what Dave would have done if he had found Curtis that night, but it is still - twenty-five years later - one of Ken's favourite inside jokes: Any time we're drinking together, despite little likelihood of slurring or tears, there's a chance Ken will tell Dave, "Ah, go find Curtis, why dontcha?" To which Dave will chuckle and shake his head and reply, "It's just a good thing he wasn't there that night."
And isn't that a sad story?
