Cincinnati was the last place I and my partner visited before he died.  We were down on Main Street and then at Findlay Market during the day, and then he took ill that night, dying three days later.

 

Findlay Market was the last place he saw alive, outside our house.  He loved that place.  He loved to cook and this place had it all for him.  He went to the butchers, he had knowledgeable discussions with the people who ran Colonel Del Ray spice place (and was a good customer of theirs), he liked to get stuff at the delis, like Silverglades and the Italian place next door, and he used to really like shopping for produce and fruit, the old pro at this.  I’d end up having to walk bags of stuff back to the car so we wouldn’t have so much to carry.  And sometimes a guy working at the produce stalls on the Race side would put the stuff in a big cardboard box for us and walk it to the car for a tip. 

 

But it wasn’t just Findlay market. 

 

We’ve been together since 1988, actually slightly longer in California, but we discovered and explored Cincinnati together after he moved here to join me in Ohio in the fall of 1988.  Cincinnati was a “we” thing for us. 

 

So we discovered special places there, as lovers are wont to do, places we went to that aren’t there anymore but still live on in memory; Piatt Park/Garfield Place used to be a quiet, romantic spot for us, with Mulane’s Parkside Café for lunch or dinner, and a visit to the little Mexican folk art shop in the Doctor’s Building (and that little café next door, that’s still there) . 

 

Then there was the celtic/folk record store in Roselawn, Crazy Ladies with it’s gay lit-crit, politically correct ephemera, and woman’s music section, the Albee restaurant in the Westin,  and obscure things like a Latino corner grocery somewhere where Cincinnati meets Norwood, a little gay bar in downtown Covington,  the vaguely fetish/leather/occult clothing place on Court Street, etc….

 

And places that are still there, like Joseph-Beth, Queen City Chili, Dutenhoffers, the rude tie store on Main, and we were always adding new spots to our itinerary, like Shake-It Records and Northside.

 

We also used to go down for shows in the early years.  We’d live large, staying at a room in the Westin after seeing a show at Bogarts, or cocktails at some downtown gay bar (two are still there).  We were going to see Rent before he died, at the Aranoff.  That would have been our first time there.  We had the tickets bought.  Instead I went.  I wore his leather jacket and put it on the aisle seat next to mine (he preferred aisle seats), sort of a symbolic gesture.  He was Angel and I was Collins.  And Cincinnati was our East Village.

 

Our visits became almost like rituals or pilgrimages.  If it was a visit to Duttenhofers we’d have to try those little eateries on busy, gritty McMillan (I recall an Ethiopian place from years ago), and dream of renting an apartment over those stores. We’d finish up with drive to the overlook park off Ohio Street…he liked those overlooks…especially that one with the city luminous in that southern light, that southern exposure, spread out before us in all its colorful variety. 

 

Or we’d take a drive past the mansions in Clifton or Keys Crescent.  He was a big queen (I say that in a good way) who appreciated the fabulous, and things didn’t get much more fabulous than Cincinnati architecture, both the humble and the haute bourgeois.  The buildings in Cincinnati would always make us smile, or take our breath away. 

 

We shopped at Tower Place, when it was new, back when they had the Williams-Sonoma, Nature Company, Structure (with it’s Le Corbusier Grand Comfort chairs) and Banana Republic, where I bought him a green field jacket that he still had, tattered in the closet, when he died (the inveterate pack rat).  We’d always go there between Christmas and New Years, or just after New Years as another little tradition.  Always a sale at Saks.  Great memories of downtown Cincinnati, including the old CAC gift shop in the Formica Building arcade (won a design award, I think).

 

But it was just driving around the city that appealed to us, or walking around a place, a neighborhood, a park, discovering something new, like driving up through Tusculum with its Sausalito-like hills to discover Alms Park and it’s overlook.  Or discovering quaint Mariemont at the end of Columbia Parkway.  Or cruising the backstreets of Camp Washington and seeing the hulk of the Crosley factory over us, catching the late afternoon sun.  Over the years, as we grew older, the city revealed itself to us and became familiar to us, became a part of our life together.

 

We appreciated the infinite variety of the place and couldn’t get enough of it…”Let’s go down to Cincy!  Sure!” ….  For us, Cincinnati was for lovers; in all its myriad aspects it was a place we fell in love with as we fell deeper in love with each other. 

 

Whenever I drive the streets, walk the streets of the city he will be with me, if only in spirit…

 

 

…in Cincinnati I’ll never walk alone.

 

 

 

Wow, that was powerful.  Thank you and I'm sorry for your loss.

 

Cincinnati still is "the Paris of the West."  And what a fabulous song, "

."

Cincinnati still is "the Paris of the West." And what a fabulous song, "

."

 

I'm terribly sorry to hear about your loss. Reading that brought a tear to my eye

 

That is the first song that I thought of upon reading the thread title.

So sorry for your loss... Beautiful words.

 

I haven't lived in Cincinnati for over 25 years, but it's still home to me. People often talk about "adopting" a certain city as their hometown, but in Cincinnati, I think the city has a way of adopting people.

What a touching, powerful story to share, Jeffrey.  I am saddened with your special loss and hope your life is a full one.  I'm sure your partner would love for you to be happy and go down to Findlay Market.

I'm all .. in tears.

 

Again, I'm so sorry for your loss and it's very nice and thoughtful of you that you feel so comfortable here on UO to share some very personal and intimate thoughts and feelings.

 

Bless you.

 

 

Thank you for sharing that with us Jeffrey. That was touching and intimate... loss of words here, really.

Jeff, I have a huge respect for you to feel open enough with us to share this. Very sad indeed. I am sorry for your loss. I know what you mean about the city ... we always joke and get carried away about how much better _____ city is over _____ city, but in all seriousness there is definitely something special about the Queen City. You don't "visit" it ... you experience it ... I know I'm going to get poked at for this, but I don't care ... but this place has a soul.

 

Keep your head up, man.

That was a beautiful, touching tribute to your partner.  I wish you all the best, Jeffery.

Thank you for baring your soul and sharing your story.  You caught the essence of how the important things in life can be so simple.  I am sorry for your loss.

Thanks for telling us your story. You gave us something extra there, finding delight in so many small and wonderful places in Cincinnati. It is such a catecomb here, or like a place to explore with thousands of little doors to walk through, or like an advent calendar. If you get to have that kind of a series of little thrills with the love of your life, that makes me feel like doing the same with my love of my life, too. Not waste time or postpone the experience.

 

I have used that expression that Cincinnati is the Paris of the Midwest. I think it's more special than that, though. Paris is grand and has huge historical swaths of things which it presents to you and you are stunned by their gravity. Cincinnati, on the other hand, has an almost limitless supply of tiny jewel-like circumstances and objects to unfold to you, each one more pleasing than the last in an intensely personal way. Almost like your best friend decided to give you something you would just always keep and love, and do it every day for the rest of your life. It's not Grand like the tomb of Napoleon, it's tiny like a locket with your name on it and your lover's picture inside.

^ Agreed. I've spent a number of years living in both Chicago and New York City, and each of those cities has a certain glamorous vibe that Cincinnati will never match. What Cincinnati offers, though, is a sense of comfort and familiarity. If NYC is an expensive Armani suit, Cincinnati is a comfortable pair of blue jeans. If Chicago is the place you want to go on spring break, Cincinnati is the place where you want to wake up on Christmas morning. If Los Angeles is the hot supermodel on a magazine cover, Cincinnati is the cute girl next door who has been your lifelong friend.

"I'm sure your partner would love for you to be happy and go down to Findlay Market."

 

Absolutely agreed :-)

Thanks for sharing your memories of the times you spent together in Cincinnati.  A loving memorial to your partner, to be sure.  So sorry for your loss.

 

 

Thank you Jeffery for sharing your thoughts and memories with us. My thoughts and prayers are with you. Warmest nuzzles and bear hugz.

 

Jim S.

 

That was so beautifully written. Thanks for sharing all of that.

 

I'm so sorry about your loss Jeffery!! My mom went through the same thing you did, a few years back, when my step-dad died. I watched it destroy her and watched her destroy herself over it. It ultimately destroyed our whole family in so many ways, for a while. It's not an easy thing to deal with.

 

When you walk down those streets, don't think of what you lost. Remember what you gained. All those fun memories. All the time you two spent together that made you feel so alive. You two shared some incredible and unique experiences in that city.

 

Keep your head up. It ain't easy going through the grieving process. Also, remember you always have us for support :) UrbanOhio is family.

Very well written!  Thank you for sharing that.

His birthday was last week and VD this weekend.  Not a good time for me since we celeberated this.  I was at the drugstore today and saw the candy, I'd get him choloclates as a suprise sometime, not just for Valentines, just a thing to do...

...stuff like that.  Here in Dayton, back in our early days, I'd be taking the bus and would buy some champaign and one of those heart-shaped chocolate boxes at Lazarus/Rikes for VD....take it home to him on the bus.

 

If you get to have that kind of a series of little thrills with the love of your life, that makes me feel like doing the same with my love of my life, too. Not waste time or postpone the experience.

 

You should, really.  Do not hesitate or postpone.  There are things I wish I had done with him, but put off.  And things I'm glad I did do with him, thinking to seize the day.  I knew he had AIDS, knew it going into this, so I was conscious that this was all on borrowed time, so to speak. It turned out to be a lot of borrowed time, and I grew complacent. so we should have done more together...

 

I think it is the little things like this, like I wrote about, that stay, things we remember. Reminds me of that old Simon & Garfunkle tune:

 

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was/

A time of innocence/

A time of confidences/

Long ago, it must be/

I have a photograph/

Preserve your memories/

They're all that's left you

 

 

 

 

 

Living in Gin, that was a great piece of writing as well. Really sums it up. "...the place you want to wake up on Christmas morning." Yea.