12 weeks have passed since Stephen’s death (referenced in early March). Here are a few brief things to share for those that may check in from time to time on his wonderful blog.

For those friends, family and neighbors who have been so supportive, I thank you from every fiber of my being. You have helped me make healthy grieving possible and have brought hope, laughter and purpose back into my life after intense shock and desperation.

I’ve been learning oodles about myself, others, loss, anger, letting go and everything else that grieving has to offer. Grief has felt relentless and grinding at times and I’m grateful to all of my past and present mentors, teachers and therapists that have helped me learn over and over to have all of my feelings without becoming those feelings. Learning the dance between allowing intense emotional pain and also allowing distractions for relief has been most healing for me.

I credit all of the support and teaching I’ve received, the vigorous endorphin producing activities of a walking/biking/hiking routine and eating food regularly (especially with others) as helping me get through this tremendous loss of Stephen with flying colors.

There is so much I miss about him including the regular movie and book reviews he shared verbally and in writing. I will keep his blog up and running in tribute to him. I may add tidbits from time to time of what seems to be helping me and others as we all continue to reinvent our lives without Stephen physically in it. He gave a lot of himself to those he cared about and my life is so much better for having been with him for many years.

I’m going to walk in the upcoming Seattle “Out of the Darkness” overnight fundraising event on June 21-22 for the organization called AFSP or American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. The 20 mile walk with fellow survivors and advocates will start at dusk and go through the night until dawn. Thanks to the generous support of family and friends I have raised the required $1000 for participation. I think this will be a great way for me to further honor Stephen and hang out with his long time friend Elizabeth (Betsy) who will be walking with me. I wish everyone well and thanks again. Love, Drew

Stephen Michael Blair (February 5, 1974 - February 28, 2008)

(posted 3-13-08 by Drew McWilliams)

I have been Stephen's life partner for over 11 years. It is with great sadness, awe and lingering shock that I post information about Stephen's death two weeks ago from today. Stephen was incredibly genuine, generous, brilliant and humorous as a writer, friend, family member and partner. I am only at the beginning stages of grief that include a deep appreciation of and longing for his presence in my life. I'm pasting below thoughts from a close friend and colleague, Meg Daily, combined with input from me and his parents that have formed an obituary in Portland's Just Out publication.


I haven't thought through enough about if or how I should further honor him with some form of continued postings, but may consider tidbits over time about what I glean from the process of living through such profound grief including the importantance of levity. I've been a mental, emotional and spiritual health professional for a long time and have always looked for ways to help myself and others manage through the ups and downs of life on this planet. For now, I wish you well and hope you appreciate what's written below. For some very irreverant and contagious humor, please consider watching any of the Comedy Central episodes of Strangers with Candy showcasing the illustrious Amy Sedaris. Our life was filled with numorous quips from three seasons worth of episodes.

My hearthfelt thanks to family and friends for their ongoing support and comfort in dealing with the suddenness of his death. In thinking about Stephen being physically gone, I leave you with a memorable phrase from our favorite animated character, Stewie, from the infamous Family Guy DVD TV series: "Damn it all to the bloody bowels of hell!"


Sincerely, Drew McWilliams

(PS: Feel free to post a comment by clicking on the envelope at the end.)


A vibrant life cut short
Meg Daly remembers writer Stephen Blair, who died February 28 in Portland

The irony is crushing. Like Vincent Van Gogh and Virginia Woolf, whose brilliant creative temperaments were coupled with severe manic-depressive disorder, Stephen wrestled for years to subdue his demons in service of his gifts.

I first got to know Stephen over plates of pumpkin curry at a Portland Thai restaurant. At the time, he was writing for the Portland Tribune and I was the PR manager for Portland Arts & Lectures. Our talk quickly veered from business into dishing about literary media whores. I was instantly charmed by his quick wit, unbridled intensity, and hip thrift-store fashion. That lunch led to seven years of inspired, devoted friendship.

Stephen showered his friends with his trademark irreverent humor. Whether attending a party as Amy Sedaris’s alter ego Jerri Blank or showing up for a babysitting gig with “Nanny McPhee” written on duct tape across his chest, Stephen’s humor and humanity were pitch perfect.

So too was his writing. Fortunately he left us a record of his unique voice on his blog http://www.blairfruit.com/. I’d encourage any budding arts writer as well as old pros to turn to Stephen’s work for a tutorial on how to combine summary and critique in whip-smart, engaging prose.

Stephen Michael Blair was born February 5, 1974 and grew up in Vernon, Connecticut. He graduated from Rockville High in 1992 and graduated Magna Cum Laude from Bowdoin College in 1996. He is survived by his long-time partner Drew McWilliams; his parents Michael and Susan Blair; his sister and brother-in-law Patricia and William Lennox and their son Eli; as well as numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends.

Gifts can be made to the Stephen Blair Memorial Staff Appreciation Fund, Morrison Child and Family Services, Development Office, 1500 NE Irving St., Suite 250, Portland, OR, 97232.

As for the questions “Why?” and “Why now?” which many of us close to Stephen are asking, answers may always elude us. That the bipolar disorder seemed to seize the reins in the end is little comfort. My heart is with Drew, as we who survive Stephen continue that most essential creative act: the art of living.

A Skinderella Story

The endearing British comedy The Full Monty proved that a guy doesn’t have to have six-pack abs to be sexy. In the 1997 film a group of unemployed men resort to stripping to ward off financial ruin, triumphantly dropping their drawers in front of an enthusiastic audience.
Acclaimed gay playwright Terrence McNally (Love! Valor! Compassion!) teamed with musician David Yazbek in 2000 to create a Broadway version set in Buffalo, New York. Two years ago local director Greg Tamblyn staged the show in Portland, and from March 7 to April 13 he’s bringing his rendition to the Lakewood Theatre in Lake Oswego.
Gay Portland actor and musician Rick Lewis serves as musical director, and he plays the role of Harold, the oldest member of the strip tease brigade. He described The Full Monty as, “A Cinderella story, in an odd way.”
“I’m incredibly modest,” he said. Still he finds the final scene invigorating. “There’s something empowering about knowing that what we’re about to do makes the audience cheer.”
Just how revealing is the scene? Lewis was not entirely forthcoming when asked this question, but his coy response should pique the interest of anyone with a prurient streak: “After the show there are people who swear they have seen everything.”
Like the film the musical depicts the way the men learn to accept themselves and each other. A gay relationship develops between two of the strippers and – though there are no bedroom antics – the men hold hands onstage.
For Lewis, “Pride is one of the driving forces of the story. Harold’s biggest fear is that he’s lost the tools to keep his marriage together, and he questions what makes him attractive to his wife.”
Lewis confided that his duties as musical director are relatively easy on this gig. “The score is so fabulous. I’m not really tweaking it.” He believes his primary responsibility is to help the actors develop their interpretive skills when singing the lyrics. “There’s no reason why the music can’t have the same storytelling qualities as the dialogue,” he said.
Originally from Ohio, Lewis made his way to New York City in the 1980s. He worked with such stage luminaries as Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine and - among other musicals - he wrote The Taffetas (CQ), a hit off-Broadway tribute to The McGuire Sisters and other female singing acts.
He moved to Portland in the early 1990s. He frequently works as a musical director for Portland Center Stage, most recently on last fall’s crowd-pleasing production of Cabaret. Lewis rounds out his working hours as the entertainment and marketing director for the Portland Spirit.

Stop-Loss
Grade: A-

Nine years after her very impressive debut feature film Boys Don’t Cry, writer/director Kimberly Peirce returns with this searing yet humane indictment of the war in Iraq. Ryan Phillippe is astonishingly good as a soldier who goes AWOL when he returns to his home in Texas and the military extends his tour of duty on the day he’s set to retire. Abbie Cornish, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and male model Channing Tatum deliver raw and memorable performances. Apart from a few ill-advised forays into cinema verité Peirce proves that her long hiatus from filmmaking hasn’t diminished her uncanny eye for detail or her compassion for misfits and struggling working class Americans.

In wide release starting March 28th. I'll be interviewing Ms. Peirce when she comes to Portland next week, and I'll probably post that interview on the blog sometime in mid-March.

My Bologna Has a First Name, It's ....

Tonight's Oscar ceremony went pretty much according to plan, and I don't have much to say about it other than:

Yippee for the amazing Coen brothers, and I'm glad that There Will Be Blood, Michael Clayton and other deserving films did not go home empty handed.

Too bad voters didn't look beyond the Pixar wizardry and recognize that the hand-drawn Persepolis is an even better animated film than Ratatouille.

I had been rooting for Julie Christie for Best Actress since I first saw Away From Her a year ago, but Marion Cotillard's surprise win didn't bother me too much since she was quite brilliant in La Vie En Rose.

Tilda Swinton's victory came as a total shock-a-roo to me. I thought the Supporting Actress category had boiled down to a three-way race between Amy Ryan, Ruby Dee and Cate Blanchett, so my hopes weren't high for Tilda even though she's one of my favorite actresses. Her irreverent acceptance speech was my favorite moment of the night.

Per usual the production pretty much sucked, with even more interminable film archive montages than usual. And I doubt I'm the only kid on the block who was hardly Enchanted by the trio of moldy Disney songs.

Snow Angels
Grade: A-

David Gordon Green (George Washington, Undertow) wrote and directed this exceptional – albeit depressing – adaptation of a Stewart O’Nan novel that juxtaposes a teenage boy’s coming-of-age with a domestic violence storyline punctuated with a series of harrowing tragedies. Kate Beckinsale delivers one of her best performances as the ex-wife of a highly unstable man (Sam Rockwell, also memorable) who’s not ready to let go of his marriage. The entire cast is terrific, and Green brilliantly captures both the beautiful and the hopeless aspects of the winter landscapes. Featuring my muse Amy Sedaris in a rare dramatic turn.

Penelope
Grade: C

After transforming from a precocious child actor into an irrepressible bad girl in indie movies, Christina Ricci lost her way with straight-to-video bombs like Prozac Nation and, now, this flat fairy tale about a girl cursed with a pig snout. Ricci gives it her all, and she’s backed by a very likable cast that includes Catherine O’Hara, James McAvoy and Reese Witherspoon. Unfortunately the spirited performances can’t disguise the fact that director Mark Palansky has no idea how to squeeze 90 minutes of whimsy out of a plot that ought to be confined to a brief bedtime story.