From Dan Woog

Dan Woog

No human being on this planet had a more profound effect on my professional life than Roy Aarons. My coming-out process coincided with the birth of NLGJA. Knowing that such an organization existed affected me deeply -- and gave me the courage to come out to my colleagues, and in my newspaper column. The six books I wrote on gay athletes, gay issues in education, gays in the workplace and straight allies, would never have happened unless Roy had been in my life, in the right place at the right time.

I attended the first 10 NLGJA conventions, and seeing Roy always lifted my spirits. He enjoyed himself -- and his extended NLGJA family -- so much. He was a role model for living life to the fullest, and growing old gracefully. But the best convention of all was the very first, in San Francisco. The energy at that Holiday Inn on Van Ness was palpable. It was a combination of incredible freedom, for so many journalists to be so out and so together, mixed with a hint of anxiety over who might walk through that door and see us there. Roy was omnipresent -- encouraging, commiserating, cajoling, pushing and pulling each of us, while simultaneously doing the same thing with his fledgling organization.

And when it was all over, that Sunday morning, we rode the cable car down to Market Street, for the Pride Parade. Forty of us marched, a bit trepidatiously at first because we had no idea what kind of reception a group of gay journalists would get. The answer came quickly: raucous. We marched proudly, laughing, waving, making up chants as we went along ("We're here, we're queer, we're on deadline"; "We schmooze, we cruise, and then we write the news..."). And proudest of all, leading the pack, was Roy Aarons.

Roy Aarons made a direct impact on thousands of lives, and an indirect one on millions. He is a true hero of mine.