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Colorado Hazel

Ricci Cortez Dies

Received Thursday, 9-4-08

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Ricci Cortez, Burlesque Queen and Legend, passed away today at the age of 83. Arrangements are pending. Please let anyone that you know that may have known Ricci know of her passing."

Ricci was very well known in the burlesque world, but she was very important to many of us in Houston. She and her partner, Papa Bear, ran THE bar on Shepherd for years. We all knew her and she remembered a lot of us. After a funeral at once time, Pat O, Sandy Swanland, and I went to the bar with some other people and we all talked about ourselves and lives and drank a lot . We discussed how the world was changing and what that would mean.

The above picture was taken in 2004 when she was at a convention in Las Vegas of Legends of Burlesque. She is still styling and looking good.

Please let me know if you have any more information on her.

Kay VC

So far, no obit in the Houston Chronicle. There should be.

Remembering Rev. Jeri Ann Harvey

MCC OBITUARY
The Rev. Elder Jeri Ann HarveyMCC Leader and Pioneer
1934 - 2008
________________________________

The Rev. Elder Jeri Ann Harvey


REMARKS BY
The Rev. Nancy L. Wilson
Office of the Moderator
Metropolitan Community Churches

May 28, 2008

There was never any mistaking that voice, or the Bible raised high above her head, or the joy, passion and energy of her preaching – sometimes with such intensity that the perspiration would roll down her face and arms. Hers was the kind of soul-searing conviction that brings you right up out of your seat; it could also be the sweet, gentle story that soothed and comforted. There was that hearty, unmistakable laughter. And the way she said "Jesus."

Rev. Elder Jeri Ann Harvey was many things to many people – Pastor, Healer, Friend, Sister, Lover, Mother, Elder. She defined "butch" for many in her generation. She broke down barriers of gender and race. She was the first woman pastor of MCC Los Angeles; she was the first Native American MCC Elder.

Her prayers were "effectual" in a deep, Biblical way. In a more frail state, more recently at the General Conference in Calgary in 2005, 500 people crammed into an upper room, and even when you could not hear her weak voice that night, you could feel her presence, the healing presence of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit. To be around her was to expect miracles, and to receive them. Even her presence was healing.

I have so many memories of Jeri Ann - serving with her on the Board of Elders, hearing her preach and pray, laughing with her late at night after a long meeting.

Jeri Ann loved. She loved women and men; she loved kids and puppies. She loved the freedom and the power of the Gospel of Jesus that she shared on so many continents through MCC. She loved good music, religious music. She loved a good story. She loved our MCC churches, members and pastors, in small or larger churches. She prayed with them, wept with them. She traveled all over the world; she wore herself out sometimes. She gave until it hurt, many times.

Her life and ministry became our history.

She confronted the Ku Klux Klan in Texas.

She battled for civil rights in California.

And like so many of us in the 80's and 90's she did too many funerals. She buried too many friends -- from HIV/AIDS, from breast cancer, from all the things that take too many too soon.

Jeri Ann Harvey preached hope and she lived hope. She endured a lot; she suffered and struggled a lot. Through it all, she was a fighter and a lover and an icon for many.

She loved Rev. Elder Gillian Storey, and was full of romance and playful friendship, right up to the end. We thank you, Gill, for loving and caring for Jeri Ann with joy and faithfulness.

May her memory be a blessing for all. May perpetual light shine upon her. May all that she was and offered be remembered and bear much fruit, in Jesus' name.

Grace and peace,

+Nancy

The Rev. Nancy L. Wilson ModeratorMetropolitan Community Churches

_________________________________
_________________________________

REMARKSby The Rev. Dr. Troy D. PerryMCC Founder and Moderator Emeritus
The young woman literally pushed her way between us.

It was MCC's 1974 General Conference in San Francisco; I was talking with an MCCer when the young woman stepped in between us, flashed a smile, and said, "Let a real butch belly up to the bar."

That's how I first met Jeri Ann Harvey – and she's been making an impression on me, and thousands of others, ever since.

From that first moment, I felt a deep connection with Jeri Ann. We soon became colleagues; we quickly became the best of friends.

I am saddened that I will not see Jeri Ann again in this life, but there is a reunion that is yet to come in which we will again be reunited.

I know today that Jeri Ann Harvey rests in the arms of a loving God and that she will be there to greet us again some day, just inside the Eastern Gate.

In Christ,

The Rev. Troy D. Perry Founder and Moderator EmeritusMetropolitan Community Churches


______________________________________________________
Read Tributes and Post Memories of Jeri Ann's
Life and Ministry at
http://RememberingJeriAnn.com/
______________________________________________________

An on-line blog is available at http://RememberingJeriAnn.com/ at which you may post your reminiscences of Rev. Elder Jeri Ann Harvey. You will also find additional information, including a bio of Rev. Harvey. Visit today to share your memories and tributes.
___________________________________________________________
Reverend Elder Jeri Ann Harvey Scholarship Fund
at Florida Center for Theological Studies
___________________________________________________________
The denomination of Metropolitan Community Churches has established the Reverend Elder Jeri Ann Harvey Scholarship Fund at Florida Center for Theological Studies.
The Florida Center for Theological Studies is an interdenominational Christian seminary with physical campuses in both South and Central Florida, and a Global Online Campus that allows students to see, hear and talk to their professors from any location.

Gifts in memory of Jeri Ann Harvey may be made to the Reverend Elder Jeri Ann Harvey Scholarship Fund by sending your donation to:

Metropolitan Community ChurchesPO Box 1374
Abilene, Texas 79604

Please make checks to "Metropolitan Community Churches" with a note on the memo line for the Harvey Scholarship Fund. For more information about the scholarship fund, contact Rev. Elder Jim Mitulski at RevJimMitulski@MCCchurch.net or Rev. Robert GriffinRevRobertGriffin@MCCchurch.net.





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Tearing down walls! Building up hope!
www.MCCchurch.net
____________________________________________________

Cooking Outside

By TONI MORRISON

Uncle Green was late so that meant all the Blue Gums would be late too. He was up from Alabama for 20 days with a $500 bill which never broke because nobody – nobody – had change and so he had to borrow whatever he needed until the time he could get to a store big enough to handle it. Mama and Aunt Millie looked at his big bill, then at each other, then at the sky that stretched overhead with precisely the infinite patience they had lost.
The fish were already awake, the potatoes were sliced and simmering next to the onions, and this whole tribal effort to have a day-long fish-and-cookout at Turkeyfoot Lake in honor of the eldest member of the Alabama wing of the family was beginning to draw Mama’s and Aunt Millie’s lips together in annoyance. For one thing, the Blue Gums (the Akron group of the family) thought Uncle Green belonged to them more than to us because they were more his age and remembered Alabama the way he did long before the migration North had begun: the first day the general store down home sold light-bread; the farm of 88 acres when it was prosperous and could feed 17 people year round; and other family reunions which were never ever called cook-outs in spite of the fact that they roasted corn and skewered fish over pine-cone fires on days just like this one.
They were possessive about Uncle Green, and so were we. For in spite of the unbreakable $500 bill – a testimony to his ancient chinchy-ness – he carried with him, on those annual visits North, like the light from a communion cup, the spirit, the recollection, the character, I suppose, of the whole tribe. A grandeur, a cohesiveness, a constant reminder of what they had all done to survive and even triumph over during the last 141 years that they knew anything about first hand. He spoke the language in the old way: called white people buckras, spoke of java, and goobers, remembered when wakes were called settin’ ups, and referred to plat-eyes, and balongas, and the Big Raid of ’61.
And although he never buttered his own biscuits or poured his own coffee, he gave us the spark we needed to get up at 3 in the morning, pile into a 1935 Chevy and two Tin Lizzies and, loaded with eggs, milk, coffee, ham, green onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, roastin’ ears, laid-out biscuit dough, graham-crackers-for-the-kids, and sugar-tit-for-the-baby, lard, butter, grapes, yellow cake, beer, ice, worms, poles, string, buckets, skillets, tablecloths, plates, U.S. Steel Company forks, and try to get to Turkeyfoot Lake before the fish woke up.
So when he did come, at last, in the Blue Gum’s car, Mama and Aunt Millie forgot the $500 bill, the smug grins of the Akron folk which showed their blue, blue gums. And daddy and the uncles forgot about the fish and the dying worms and stood up to greet with loud shouts the man who made them feel their manhood anew. The man who spoke the names of trains they too had ridden as though they were old friends; the man who had beat them all at hambone contests, who had married a girl named Sing and had seven sons, the man who carried his life-savings in one bill deep in his pocket to bear witness to a million sacrifices and tiny thefts and knew, as they did, that it must never be broken into mere “change.”
Mama stood and put her jealousy into the paper bag with the egg shells and began to whip the eggs with a slow, wide and generous beat. Aunt Millie turned the fried potatoes over, saying a little splash of beer over the frying ham would be good. Green always liked it that way.
He brought us together. He meddled in the cooking and baiting of hooks. Told the older girls how to bile the coffee proper and to get them roastin’ ears out of the sun. He directed the boys to the coolest part of the lake to sink the beer in.
The day moved then into its splendid parts: a ham, fried-potatoes, scrambled-egg, breakfast in the morning air; fried fish and pan-cooked biscuits on the hind side of noon, and by the time Mama - who had never heard of Gerber’s – was grinding a piece of supper ham with her own teeth to slip into the baby’s mouth, and the Blue Gums had unveiled their incredible peach cobbler, the first stars were glittering through the blue light of Turkeyfoot Lake.
Were were all there, All of us, bound by something we could not name. Cooking, honey, cooking under the stars.
From her blog in NY Times.
I think a lot of us can identify.