Lee James MacCormack

Lee James MacCormack

On a visit to go see my old college roommate in Seattle in 1989 I was brought to the Starbucks at the Seattle Center. In an open glass atrium at the far end of the lobby I met Lee James MacCormack. A bright vibrant brilliant boy with long curly black hair, a snow white complexion and eyes that were so alive and expressive he could be heard speaking when he was completely silent. He had all the energy of an eager artist and all the style the 1980’s could muster. His long black waving hair fell over his shoulders and the royal blue fedora he donned as he closed up his kiosk matched his deep blue long coat with massive black buttons.

He was an artist and as such he was that unique thing. He was the embodiment of optimism. My friend Greg who introduced me to Lee was off to the side with the coffee we had just bought and waited as Lee locked up the last of the panels. He walked over and we began the long trek back to the opposite doors of the lobby as Lee produces a gift he had bought for me from the kiosk.

Now I have to say he was not well off. As all artists in their 20’s he was as poor as a church mouse but he was just as sweet as he was poor.
He produces this gift and explains that my trip to Seattle had to have a local gift to bring back to New York with me. I was quite taken back. He had just met me and within the fifteen minutes he needed to pay for the gift, close the register and lock up the kiosk he had determined to make a difference in a strangers day.

It was one of those early Starbucks mugs, a can shaped white mug with the green mermaid emblazoned and with it a rubber coaster with the same logo. I knew how much he had spent as I had just considered buying them myself. Greg suggested we go out to eat and I saw the quiet face say nothing but the eyes speak volumes. Lee had just spent all the money he had. Before he could decline I asked if I could return the thoughtful gift with taking him out and the ease it brought over that innocent face breathed fresh life back into him. We spent a late lunch talking of the trip out from NY and how wonderful Seattle was as well as the things Lee wanted to achieve in his art. He was so passionate and so determined I knew he would let nothing get in the way of reaching his goal. I saw him that day for a few short hours but he left a mark. I saw in him hope and wisdom. He was infectious in his ability to see and spread the joy he felt. He explained his goals like he was drawing a diagram. This elven boy had a keen mind and a sharp wit. I looked forward to meeting him again.

Before I left Seattle to return to New York I decided I wanted to live there. I spent the following year and a half setting up a business in order to have a base income from NY and planned to go to Seattle and find any simple job to keep myself housed fed and planned to start a new life. After setting up and running a business for my final 8 months in New York I turned over the running of my antiques store to my mother and set out for Seattle. I found a place to live and got a simple job and spent time reconnecting with people I had met in my trip including Lee. He was just as energetic as I had remembered.

One day on my job I noticed I felt tired and sluggish. This continued and went on for weeks. Finally I went to the hospital when nothing I did seemed to help. I went into the emergency room and after they tested my blood checked me in to determine what was wrong. It was obvious to them that something was distinctly wrong but they couldn’t put their finger on it without the tests to confirm their suspicions. They identified a dangerous level of white blood cells and then formally checked me in.

That night I had an episode. I had head pain that was so intense I lost consciousness while still speaking and sitting up on the bed. The man in the other bed called the nurse in as I fell off the bed. I can only tell you what he told me after I regained consciousness. He said I had fallen off the bed saying “Its not fair” repeatedly but then it took a turn. I began speaking in another language. He had been in World War II and was based in the South Pacific. He told me he could recognize enough of the language to claim it was some form of Island language but couldn’t identify the words. That’s when the nurse came in with the doctor. This part I partially recall. I remember a dream state where people were reaching for me and I got scared. I recall pulling away and trying not to be touched. I wriggled and pulled and each time they caught hold of me I would find a way to pull out and proudly boast they hadn’t beaten me yet. This was the last thing I can recall until I regained consciousness in a room by myself in a hospital bed with steel railings and no window or anyone else around. I was strapped down at the wrists and ankles with tan leather restraints attached to the bed. When I regained my full consciousness I was returned to my original room and was released from my comedically applied restraints. I say comedically because according to me and every person I had ever met I was the least dangerous person to have walked the streets of the cities I had lived in. That is I thought I was the least dangerous person until I heard what I had done during my seizure. I hadn’t just wriggled free I had been hitting the people who came in to see what was wrong. Including the nurse my doctor two orderlies and a burly security guard I had the tense experience of meeting later on the following day.

All of my interactions that day were unusual. The guard who came in and circled my bed like a bear looking for the tastiest part to begin chewing. He asked me if I remembered him and I gave him the only answer I had. I said “No, should I”? That seemed to calm him and he regarded me as you would a felon in court who had just claimed he was not guilty. Before leaving he said the doctor told him I wasn’t myself when we met. I still don’t know what I did but I know it was enough to have made him think of me as a high risk.

Then the nurse who mysteriously had not been on that floor until that afternoon who also regarded me as one would an un-exploded bomb and finally my doctor who came in, sat on the bed, explained I had a seizure brought on by spinal meningitis that had not only damaged my brain but had been the result of my body attempting to fight off an illness by over producing the white blood cells to do its normal job but to a ferocious extent.
It was after this he calmly and deeply em-pathetically took my hand in his and said the test had come back from the lab confirming his suspicions. I had tested positive for HIV. His somber tone and look of deep sadness was moving and profound.

It was what I did next that came as a complete surprise. Not only a surprise to the room mate but the nurse the doctor and even myself. I let out a long relaxed sigh. It confused all of them and I could see it. There was a palpable change in everyone and I had to explain. I told him he didn’t give me a death sentence. He empowered me. With a few words he had just told me I was in complete control. I said “Don’t you see? You just said if I want to live a longer life its entirely up to me to make every beneficial choice. If I want it and I make those choices I will live longer. Also if I cant handle life and feel I’m not up to it you just told me I’m in control of that also. If I cant live with it every bad choice I made would shorten my life. You just told me its all up to me. I can have precisely what I choose to give myself”

No one had had that reaction. I don’t know if anyone after that had that reaction. I just know its what I saw in the moment. For the first time it was all up to me.

I had to tell you this in the middle of Lees’ story to explain what came next. I had been assigned a Nurse Practitioner named Trudy Jones for whom I always did and always will have a world of respect. As she filled me in on things I needed to get set up to learn how to build my future she connected me to all the right people and all the right services.

The one most significant to this story was what was called at the time “HIV University”. A six week course in which I would learn everything from how to work with a case manager and the systems and medical needs on to basic nutrition. Something that everyone who had been diagnosed needed in order to survive.
The day arrived for my first class. I walked in to the meeting room and there was Lee standing with others in our same situation. We had both been diagnosed at the same time and both were in this class together. We spoke each day of our classes and went for walks afterward. On some days we met before and would walk around capitol hill and speak of our respective situations.

He made it clear to me he had no intention of going without making his mark. He wanted his efforts to count for something. He was going to be remembered. So he dedicated himself to redoubling his efforts to make his art count. He put things together at a record pace and he shone like the joyful beacon I had met that first day. His determination overshadowed his joy of life and it was clear he felt this was his one and only chance. He did it. He put together his art show and it was a beautiful success. It however had cost him everything to do so. He was a wizened and wraith like figure by the time he was done. I had gone to a meeting at a local coordinating facility in a house on Capitol hill. Lee was there, a flimsy version of his original self. A friend of his was there as well She had helped him get there and was there to support him as he showed off the achievement of his art show. She was petite and had chestnut brown bobbed hair that circled her face. When it cam his turn to speak Lee shone when he spoke of the show and of the success it had been. He lit up and although the energy wasn’t there the joy was. It was like watching a bonfire blaze up too high and use up all the fuel in one fast flash of light. The meeting ended and I knew I had seen this elf of joy for the last time. He passed shortly after that.
I went into the house for another meeting and as was usual each day you went to the house the white board was full of names of the people who had passed that month. This time the board had his name on it. It was dated and I silently noted that I would not let him pass without doing something to honor him. A year to the day of his passing I went to the house to be present to say I had known this sprite and he had done an art show and I was there to give him his due. I wanted his name spoken. Sitting in the room of maybe 15 people was the girl who had brought him over a year earlier. She too had come to speak of him. Neither of us recognized the other. It came my turn to speak of the happy impish artist I would not let go and as I spoke her head lifted. She asked me his name and I started it and she finished with me. She had come the day of his passing for the same reason. We took it as a notification that remembering him on that day was intended to bring solace to us both. I think to this day Lee had a hand in it. If anyone could orchestrate this it would be him. We both left with a greater feeling of still having him in our lives.
He still haunts me in a way that only a sprite can. With a mischievous lively light that comes off him like a candle from within.