Sherry Netherland

Her vanity license plate read "NYHotel." When I met her, nearly thirty years ago, she told me that she changed her name to further her comic career. She also didn't have much to do with her parents, who lived on Long island. I was with her sometimes when she introduced herself to new people. She would smile and say "Hi. I'm Sherry Netherland." Often the people would shake her hand and say "Nice to meet you." Then she'd look at me and say "They don't get it." And we would laugh.

From other people's comments, I guess we met at Israeli dancing at Beth Chayim Chadashim, a synagogue for gay men and lesbians, probably in late 1984 or early 1985. We hit it off right away. She was pretty, funny, loud and brassy. I like those qualities in a woman. If we had not both been gay, it might have been a match.

I left my day job in the fall of '86 and embarked on an acting career. I was too petrified to do stand-up, as Sherry did. I saw one of her shows. It was too early in our liberation for her to be an open lesbian. This was fifteen years before Ellen came out, and longer before Wanda Sykes. She had to be too safe to talk about her real life.

We rehearsed a scene together from a Christopher Durang play and presented it to a casting director through the Screen Actors Guild. I thought we were both brilliant. That wasn't enough to get us hired.

Sherry once gave me a great idea. She sent out pictures and resumés with a little plastic kazoo. She knew agents and casting people throw away lots of envelopes without looking at them, but she thought they would be curious if there was an extra something rattling around in the envelope.

When Beth Chayim Chadashim split in 1992, Shery went with the new congregation, Kol Ami. There was a lot of ill will at that time, but Sherry and I remained friends, event though I stayed at the original temple. Still, there were years when we didn't see much of each other. We got back together on Facebook. Joe and I went to see a show she directed before we moved away from Los Angeles in January, 2010.

From a distance, I read about her new house, all the plays she was acting in, directing or writing, her golf game. Then I got this message from her on Facebook on May 2:

"On April 9th I was diagnosed with lung cancer. (no I am not a smoker) I am not making this Facebook public but I wanted you to know because you are at services every week and I know you would include me in The mishebeyrach prayer. It couldn't hurt. I have no treatment plan yet. Lots of tests yet to go." [Mi Shebeyrach is a prayer for healing]

Sherry sent periodic updates to a group of friends and told us she would have an operation. She included a long list of contacts, things to do, where she would be after her operation, to whom to send get-well cards. She was very organized, and, I think, clear about the possibilities. She remained logical, upbeat and unself-pitying throughout.

This is the last email from her to her group, dated August 3:

  "Okay peeps, tomorrow at 9am everyone should think, "lung in a pan."  If my lung is in a pan next to me, I am essentially cured of cancer.

I believe in positive thinking and with the collective power of the very wonderful minds on this list I should be a-ok.

I am grateful for all the encouragement, support and good wishes I have received from each of you these past few months.  It has made this journey easier. I will spend a long time trying to find the right words to express these feelings.  Your love has kept me positive and that has been so important and of value without price.

There will be an email tomorrow from Lloyd (which will appear to be from me) with an update on how the surgery went.

love,
Miss Sherry"


After this, her friend Lloyd sent updates from the hospital. The original news was not good, but it seemed there would be some further treatment out of the hospital. That didn't happen, and Sherry died Saturday morning, August 16. She was 59. 

I call it "The Rules." The Rules are that people become ill and die, some too soon, some too late. The Rules are what will inevitably happen to you. It's The Rules that come with the gift of life. It doesn't make it easy. 

I cried for Sherry Saturday morning, my friend of so many years. My religion tells me I should thank God. There was a time when I could not have done this, and it is still a struggle. I have to remember that Sherry was blessed with beauty and brains, prodigious talent, a wide circle of friends. She made an excellent life for herself. I'm not the only one who will miss her.