Nora had been blunt about her death; she wanted no “remembrance bullshit,” as she put it. “When I die, let there be nothing—I want you to do fuck-all about my dying,” Nora had told us. Considering the unlikelihood of Em going to church, Mr. Barlow and I remembered a more recent conversation. Nora had been railing against John Cardinal O’Connor and the Roman Catholic Archdiocese’s opposition to safe-sex education in the city’s public schools. We’d heard Nora on this subject too many times; Mr. Barlow and I were barely listening. We knew O’Connor had campaigned against LGBT nondiscrimination laws, and how he’d described homosexual behavior as sinful—even Em’s gay but homo-hating dad knew that. And of course Cardinal O’Connor was opposed to condom distribution. Who hadn’t heard about that?

Then Nora said something we hadn’t heard before. Her fractured relationship with ACT UP notwithstanding, Nora knew about the planned Stop the Church protest at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Nora had friends who were ACT UP members, and knew of the disagreements among them. The Stop the Church protest was aimed at Cardinal O’Connor, not at the worshipers attending Mass. The protesters had planned to gather outside St. Patrick’s during a Mass, but a bunch of activists wanted to demonstrate inside the cathedral. Nora had said it was a “piss-poor idea” to protest inside the church. “Some dork will do something stupid—it won’t take much to offend the worshipers,” Nora had railed, with Em nodding her head off.

There’d been a compromise within ACT UP. (Nora didn’t usually have a high regard for compromises.) One talking point had been not to disrupt the Mass. The people intent on protesting inside the cathedral agreed to dress conservatively, to blend in with the congregation. The plan was to stage a die-in during the homily, the least-sacred part of the service. How the die-in might turn out didn’t sound promising to Nora. How does a die-in not disrupt a Mass?

Nora said “some fink” would tip off St. Patrick’s. She swore there would be plainclothes cops inside the cathedral for the 10:15 A.M. Mass. “The cops know how to dress for church—the cops can blend in with the congregation, too!” Nora had railed. She said “some fink political leaders” would attend the Mass to show their support for Cardinal O’Connor. “I’ll bet the fink mayor will be there!” Nora had cried. She meant Mayor Koch. His name rhymed with crotch, but Nora called him Mayor Cock—or, sometimes, Ed the Cock. Naturally, the Gallows Lounge had not allowed Nora and Em to make fun of Mayor Ed Koch onstage—not in the way Nora intended. Em had been relieved; she didn’t think it was fair to make fun of the mayor’s head. “Ed’s head looks like a penis—he’s a cockhead!” Nora had argued with Em.