Henry Ong

There is an Irish saying, that tears shed here speed a soul's progress to heaven.  Last night, so many of us were weeping, but I don't think Henry needed our tears to pass into whatever plane awaits us when we leave this one.

He was one of the good ones.

I met Henry almost 30 years ago, when he was a PR specialist at the LA Public Library and I was doing... what I am still doing.   I had no idea that my sweet funny co-worker was on his way to becoming a world renowned playwright.  He must have been working on Madame Mao's Memories then.  I lost track of him but we reconnected at some point, I think when a play he was asked to write for local deaf students was presented. Chris and I were able to see readings and performances of his work. I loved his adaptation of "Nina Balatka" I remember how happy he was to see us at the original reading of The Blade of Jealousy at UCLA.  We saw it again at a reading to try to get investors and finally, I celebrated my 60th birthday at a full stage production on Opening Night this past June.  Henry was glowing, as he usually was. 

I am glad he got to produce his Magnum Opus, "The Dream of the Red Chamber", doing a Chinese street theater style version of it in a park. He even gave me and Chris a few lines to read to be part of it.  I was still recovering from pneumonia at that point and I was tiring easily, so we only were able to stay for one act.  I really wanted to see more.  It was classic Henry Ong, with great characters and silly little asides, much like Henry himself.   When I first met him, he would walk up to a group of us, look at us and ask if we had seen someone who was standing in the group.  It became a "bit" and he would always act shocked that the person was right there.  He could be so silly.

My first thoughts on hearing of his passing were of his husband, Matthew.  The love between them was palpable.  Word fail me here. 

 Henry, I'm sorry I never got to love Trollope the way you did.  Maybe I should give the old boy another shot.   I am sorry we never got to have that dinner here at Casa Myers.  I make a wicked vegan curry.  This week, I will make it to share and talk about you. You are not really gone; just "hiding behind a pillar"  Your work will continue to be performed and enjoyed.  I love you, Henry Ong.