I've been telling all my friends that when I die, I want to be cremated, my ashes put in a disco ball that can be bounced and passed around the room during my funeral while Donna Summer's "Last Dance" is blaring over the loudspeaker.
For gay men of a certain age, the passing of Donna Summer last week was a significant loss. Those of us in our late 40s and 50s remember this disco diva in her 1970s prime. Upon hearing the news of her death, all the memories attached to that time have come flooding back.
I finally had a moment to digest this sad news. I'd been humming "On the Radio" all day long, half-expecting others to join in. The late day sun filtered down, and I could feel tears springing to my eyes.