Hey friends, it’s Laura, nee Lucky, from The Craptacular. It’s been a long time since we stopped in to share our thoughts on life and theater. Our absence can be explained by a lot things—including what you’ll read below—but it felt like a good moment to take a breath and dive back in after the passing of our beloved Gavin Creel. Here are some words from Aileen.
In 2022, at the age of 38, I was diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, I would find out that I had Diffuse Large B-Cell Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma (though not until after a little trip through the land of Primary Mediastinal Large B-Cell Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma). I would undergo six rounds of R-EPOCH chemotherapy over the course of five months from January through May, endure three hospitalizations (two planned, one a C-Diff related oopsie), and finally receive CAR-T Cell therapy in November of that year. In January of 2023 I would find out I was, at least for the time being, cancer-free. My body had had a complete metabolic response to the CAR-T.
There are a lot of stories I want to tell about this time, and about my life before and after cancer. But today, I’m thinking of the people I’ve lost to cancer in just the time since I myself was diagnosed.
Bobby Eck—an exceptional programmer, former colleague, family man, and unbelievably good human who I’d known since I was probably six-years-old, and he was about nineteen. Leukemia came for him first, and after a bone marrow transplant, Ewing Sarcoma came for him last. Ewing Sarcoma won that battle.
Marianne Traband, my sister-in-law’s mother, who was one of the fiercest, funniest, most powerful women I’ve known. Who faced cancer during the scariest, early months of the pandemic, and who fought to the very end. Who I still feel with me on my hardest days, telling me to get my shit together because I don’t have life to waste—especially not when she isn’t here with us.
And today. Today. Today we lost another light—a ghost light, to be exact—in Gavin Creel’s passing.
It may seem odd to mention Creel in this list. After all, he was a Tony-winning theater actor I only ever met in passing. I did not know him personally, not really, though sometimes his music and advocacy could make it feel that way.
But I was a fan. And I often invest myself very deeply in fandom during the times when I am most challenged in my real, everyday life. I was working through something in 2009 when I turned back to Broadway, and Hair.
For me, theater is an immense comfort. A chance to step outside my own shoes, my own brain, and enter another world. That world isn’t always easy, or bright, but it is always a reminder of the humanity in all of us. And the communal experience of theater never fails to remind me that I am not alone.
Being diagnosed with cancer as a single, never-wed, childless 38-year-old was scary. But I was lucky—so lucky—even when I was at my unluckiest. Because I was not alone. I had an enormous community around me, surrounding me in prayer, in love, in literal, actual, physical support.
Some of the people who rushed to my side at that time are people I’ve known all my life, or nearly so. Parents, aunts & uncles, cousins, siblings by birth and by marriage, friends I made so long ago I can hardly keep track of the years.
But other people who were there were part of the friendship community I built through theater in the last decade-ish of my life. They sent gift cards for food and Ubers, they sent cozy blankets, they sent messages to check in on me and offer their support.
And without Gavin Creel, none of those people would have been a part of my life. Gavin was the lure who pulled me back into theater with his performance in Hair. Gavin’s Claude is what inspired my best friend Laura and I to start a theater blog, lovingly dubbed The Craptacular, and a Twitter to go along with it. He inspired us to put our own art out in the world in a way that drew community to us.
Today it truly feels as if Gavin Creel is the fulcrum on which my life pivoted in 2009. That website where I built my community introduced me to people who changed my life in so many ways. Dave, who got me a job in the beauty industry that I never would have gotten otherwise, and which changed my career. Jesse who taught me about the power of video, his husband Zach who teaches me about joy every time I see him—who together are the most comforting friends, even when we are apart. Anthony who commiserates with me about the challenges of being a creative in the advertising industry. Katie and Ryan whose unconditional support challenges me to be a better version of myself all the time, and whose love and children bring me so much joy. Ashley, who I marvel at every day, who teaches me about art and life and living after catastrophic health challenges. Nicole, who’s old apartment I now live in, was right there in the hospital with me. As was Melanie, who I delight in watching challenge the trauma the 90s inflicted upon us all through raising her own amazing child. Anika who teaches me new things all the time, and whose growth (in life and in work) inspires me on the regular. Amanda who is so inimitable, a true original, and who makes me laugh all the time, whether she knows it or not. Mark, who moved in with me when I (when we) needed someone the most, and whose inordinate care will always be a part of me.
These people are, of course, only a part of my support system. My parents gave of themselves so completely to pull me through even the worst days. My Aunt Kathy & Uncle Phil took care of me, and most importantly, took care of my parents during that awful time. My best friends, most of whom I met through Hanson fandom (another story for another time), who were there at the hospital, who helped me build a litter robot so I could keep my cat at home with me, who left work to accompany me to medical appointments, who built text chains with my mother to coordinate hospital visits and ensure I didn’t spend a day alone at Mt. Sinai while I was in treatment. My brother, who checked in on me constantly, even as he was losing his mother-in-law and supporting his wife in her grief. Who’s text telling me I absolutely had to beat cancer, because our family could not take any more loss, gave me even more will to survive.
There are so many stories. So many people. I got really unlucky with that cancer diagnosis, but I am incredibly blessed. To have fought with those people at my side. To be alive, thanks to advances in medicine I never could have imagined, and doctors whose care I will never forget.
I want to tell those stories. The awful ones and the funny ones (because yes, even cancer can be quite funny, if you let it).
But today is for the story of Gavin Creel, and how he changed my life for the better without ever knowing it. Who had a hand in making me who I am today. For whom I will always and forever be grateful.
Happy trails, Mr. Creel. You changed the world. I will always be grateful for your ephemeral light.
…cross-posted from Substack.