The story of Sid's life prior to 1984 is not something I, Andrew, can do any justice to. So the writing on this tribute site will be primarily about us, together initially from that summer we first dated. We actually met at work, which was the Department of National Defence, of all places. But first, I have to explain that, I did not know much about this odd but friendly man who brought us contract requisitions into the typing pool where I worked, for us to process. And I don't know about you, but I don't find much credence in the scientific claim that coincidences are nothing more than just that -- coincidental. I say that because, if anything my relationship with Sid showed time and again, it was that there were no coincidences. In fact, when I didn't know Sid other than as an acquaintance from work, I did not know at all if he was a straight married man or a single one looking for a wife. Either way, I just presumed like everyone else did, that he was certainly a regular straight guy. Well, maybe not regular. And I just happened to mention his name, to the one friend who just happened, unknown to me, to have some crucial personal insights about this mysterious Sid Johnston. Without that coincidence, I would not have been armed with the critical knowledge, next time I spoke with Sid, that I needed to continue my flirtation with him in earnest. And one thing led to another, and to our first date as such, cruising up the Rideau River on a houseboat that he and his friend Bill managed to share with separate schedules. After that fun, awkward, and rather unglamorous first-date, Sid and I kept seeing one another, and a deep bond soon formed. I only told my closest friends about this new relationship, and almost no-one at work knew anything at all was going on between these two co-workers who always chatted and went to lunch together. To give readers some context and a sense of what that time was like, back in 1984 there were no legal rights for gay people to work for the federal government, let alone the military. In fact, the military boldly excluded "openly" gay members, and routinely dismissed or discharged anyone who wasn't open but was found out. So it was a period of intense cloudiness, wherein the employment atmosphere at DND could be cloaked in secrecy, evasiveness, hushed alliances and stunning betrayals -- your own co-worker could be asked, and many were, to report on your comings and goings and with whom you associated. Never mind the government's contention that any "foreign interest" in your private life may result in a nasty bout of blackmail; the internal system itself of the Canadian government ensured that blackmail was a distinct possibility by one of your peers or even your boss. So, you simply did not find very many openly gay people, men or women. When we were faced with that conundrum, Sid and I made a distinct and conscientious choice to never acquiesce to any nonsensical policies of the government (which would have entailed hiding ourselves and our love for one another). And while this might have seemed like the only dignified course to take, it was not an easy one -- nor was it not without consequences. It did, however, lead me to meeting Sid and eventually discovering that we had more in common than just work. And it ultimately led to our both being one of the first visible and vocal male couples in all of DND, in all of the federal government. In time, and after we directly had to fight for our civil rights, the Canadian government changed course and finally accepted people as people, no matter their orientation. This included, well after a decade from the time we'd first met, the big change in the military -- the ban on discriminating against any member because of their sexual orientation. By the time the government saw the light, Sid and I weren't able to personally say we were the only openly gay couple; and so eventually, our having struggled with DND was a forgotten footnote in the archives. But it had taught us so many invaluable lessons, the chief one being that no citizen ought to take his or her government for granted, not even if it claimed to be a democracy. If anyone reading this were to think it all sounds trite or even self-promotional, I would advise that Sid was would rarely endure anything trite, happily or honestly, and he certainly was not good at tooting his own horn sufficiently. He had moral fortitude, as an "non-believer" (so-called), even more than most religious "leaders" (so-called), because he believed in the goodness of people and their potential; and wisely questioned the authorities -- from teachers to Prime Ministers and political parties -- who expediently played up to what was the right thing to do instead of initiating and fostering it without self-serving motive. In fact, Sid's integrity came at some cost, yet he never complained. He always used what he learned to broaden his love of what potential there was in others, in humanity. He was not one to cynically give up, bemoan the situation and become downtrodden. Even after death threats from a lunatic co-worker. Even after that co-worker was allowed to stay put and then given shelter from personal accountability. But that's a long story, and not one suited to here and now. For several years after we had met, Sid and I enjoyed life and work, and all seemed so promising for a brighter future than either of our pasts had ever suggested.