Terry Teachout, 1956-2022
My favorite novels in childhood centered on the character of Betsy Ray, who was determined to be a writer. As a freshman in high school, she also became boy-crazy, crushing on seemingly every male in her vicinity. Eventually, most of those boys became “merely” friends. One, Herbert Humphreys, told Betsy everything about his flirtations and romances, which Betsy concluded was hard on her ego, but good for her ambitions. She dubbed Herbert her “Confidential Friend,” CF for short, and they settled into a lifetime friendship.
My confidential friend, Terry Teachout, and I never crushed on each other, but we supported each other for more than 25 years. He was one of the first serious critics to praise me as a novelist; I was there for him as he fell in and out of love. His second wife, Hilary, had died in the early weeks of the pandemic and, for the next nine months or so, we were constant presences in each other’s DMs, although I needed a very different kind of succor in the first year of Covid.
Terry died Jan. 13, at the age of 65. Over the past year, he had needed me less, which never bothered me. He had found love, theater was coming back, his Twitter feed was full of the movies and music he shared with his new love.
The last time I saw him was in May 2021. It was a time of hope, banal as that sounds. We were vaccinated, I was in New York for the first time in seven months. He was about to have his first face-to-face meeting with a woman he had met via social media, an uncanny combination of beauty and wit who had slid into his DMs and captivated him with her knowledge of theater. “Oh, Laura,” he said, “I so want this to happen.” I wanted it to happen for him, too. Lots of men love women. Terry liked them as well. That’s a rarer combination than you might think. I secretly worried that the woman he had found was too good to be true. But I quickly learned that she was too good not to be true. If you follow Terry on Twitter, you know her name, but she’s a private person and I want to respect her privacy. It was an absolute joy to read about the movies and music they shared once they started meeting regularly IRL. I was especially happy when I learned that she had gotten him to watch Paddington 2, which Terry agreed was one of the greatest movies ever made.
Back in February 2021, dangerously close to the first anniversary of the death of Hilary, Terry’s closest friends had organized a surprise birthday party via Zoom. Despite being caught off-guard, he spoke eloquently. Duh. Terry always spoke eloquently. At the end of the party, two of his friends performed one of his favorite songs, "Some Other Time.” Do you know it? I didn’t.
Where has the time all gone to?
Haven't done half the things we want to
Oh well, we'll catch up some other time
I had started walking in the morning to deal with the isolation/sedentariness of my pandemic life. I added the Tony Bennett version of “Some Other Time” to a playlist I had created called, oh so creatively, “Walking.” It nestled between Cy Coleman singing “Where Am I Going?” and Dusty Springfield’s “I Just Don’t Know What To Do with Myself.” Did you know, Terry asked, when I mentioned the Coleman tune on Twitter, that Coleman had appeared on frequently on “Playboy After Dark”? I did not, but, of course, Terry did. Terry knew so much.
I mainly listen to podcasts when I walk, but the other day, I played my Walking playlist and thought about Terry and – well, we all know this story, right? You think about a friend, you resolve to touch base, and then you don’t. And maybe it’s for the best reasons. He’s happy, he’s in love, there will always be time to check in.
Spoiler alert: There won’t be.
In memory of Terry Teachout, check in with a friend today, even if you think they’re doing great and don’t “need” to hear from you.