Loving Scott: A Memoir by Pat Horner
A biographical memoir and emotional look into a dysfunctional life of recreational drugs, alcohol, and personalities that complicated lives of exceptional people.
My wife and I are life-long friends with the author’s husband David. David and Pat have visited us in Mexico. They are wonderful intelligent people who found each other, and now enjoy an action packed life together.
This beautifully written and informative book is a great opportunity to glimpse into a real life story of love, tragedy, and loss.
EXCERPTS:
Throughout childhood and his careers in the New York drag scene and makeup business, Scott stayed humble and grounded. He connected instantly to people while he wove through the cruel homophobia of society and the bravado and craziness of the fashion world.
Escape lured me, but as I waited for something, anything to alleviate that sick, deep feeling of dark clouds outside the window, I was reminded by the ever-occurring sun that life would go on, and so should I.
Her lecture tour with Gloria Steinem was described by Gloria as “the Thelma and Louise of the seventies.” “I had to speak first because after Flo, I would have been an anticlimax.” Gloria said. While onstage, a disgruntled man asked Flo if she and Steinem were lesbians. “Are you the alternative?” Flo asked. I was reminded of Dorothy Parker’s words, “Heterosexuality is not normal, it’s just common.”
Flo had dabbled in acting and was comfortable onstage. I was not. After her rousing speech against the Vietnam War, sexism, racism, oppression, and political apathy at the University of Minnesota, Flo called me up onstage to sing “We shall Overcome.”
I developed the photographs, the arm chair was empty—only the kids were at each side. It was supposed to be a family portrait but I had pressed the wrong button and the self-timer didn’t work. This photo spoke to me years later, depicting my psychological separation from the kids due to my growing addictions. I had gone missing.
Lucky for me the forgetfulness and feeling out of control assured me of never becoming attached to LSD. I was too confused.
I was in love again and in denial of our dependence on drugs and alcohol.
I was not a Deadhead but simply someone, fueled by drugs, who fell in love with a musician. Or was I falling in love with drugs?
My poor husband. Years later when I asked how it had been for him during the first years after Scott passed, he said, “It was hard going.”
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