My younger brother, Bill, has a knack for making friends with some unusual characters.

Take Rodger McFarlane, for example. You may know him as Tommy Boatwright from Larry Kramer’s seminal work, The Normal Heart (Jim Parsons played him in the Broadway revival and HBO movie).

I know Rodger from a different genre. He authored an important book.

Bill sent a copy of Rodger’s book to Gary and me in 2004, when Gary’s mom was dying of cancer. She had told Gary for decades that when her time came, she wanted to die at home.

Gary was determined to keep her home and well cared for until the end. Dairy farming was more than a full-time job, but he became Rita’s caretaker, too.

There’s a special place in heaven for caretakers. It’s a thankless, grueling job. And when the patient is a beloved relative, it’s heart wrenching.

Rodger knew this; he was caretaker as his father died of cancer and later when AIDS took his brother David. Rodger wrote about what he knew, and it helped us – and countless others – a lot.

Today marks the 16th anniversary of my mother-in-law’s passing, may she rest in peace.

I’d hoped to meet Bill’s friend someday and thank him for the guidance his book provided. But that will never happen, as Rodger succumbed to a heart condition and back problems in 2009.

Bill and Rodger met during the ’90s, when Bill was a personal trainer and Rodger was his client.

They hit it off. Big time.

The two fitness nuts took it to the extreme. Remember the old Discovery Channel Eco-Challenge? Bill and Rodger were on New York City’s “Team Urban Edge” in 1998.

That really tall guy in the picture? That’s Rodger McFarlane.

How tall?

“Rodger liked to say he was five-feet-19-inches tall.”

Team Urban Edge trained endlessly for the event. Every weekend, they hiked, bicycled, climbed mountains.

This video is cued up to a section where Rodger explains why the Eco-Challenge was so important:

Bill chuckles remembering his client-turned-friend. “He used to tell us, ‘You keep up or I’ll start the Broadway songs.’ That’s all we needed to hear.”

That’s right. Broadway. Rodger was a Tony Award winner. Not for singing and dancing (although he did sometimes serve as a stand-in for the slightly shorter Tommy Tune), but for his work with Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS.

The lights on Broadway were dimmed to honor Rodger following his passing.

Rodger’s death was by suicide. He left a note, explaining he felt that debilitating health problems left him no other choice. Bill laughs softly and says if it had been anyone else loading up a black Jeep and driving to Truth Or Consequences, New Mexico, to end his life, Rodger would have declared it the gayest thing ever.

Rest in peace, Rodger McFarlane. And happy birthday.

Keeping track of Rodger’s accomplishments is a challenge all its own. The Alabama-born McFarlane grew up on a farm, with schoolteacher parents and three brothers. Rather than finishing his college degree, he enlisted in the Navy where he served as a nuclear engineer on board a fast-attack submarine.

On his first of seven trips to the North Pole, Rodger was inducted into the Royal Order of the Blue Nose. And yes, that’s a thing.

Sidenote: The reason I felt the need to provide proof about the Blue Nose claim, Bill told me Rodger was such a wild storyteller that he was never quite sure what to believe. For example: “Rodger told me he knew some Russian guy who would stop by and shave his entire body with a straight razor. Crazy, I know. But with Rodger, I’d tend to believe it.”

Rodger loved Bill’s wife, Barbara, and their daughter, Lucy.

When Lucy was about two years old, the four of them went to Madison Square Garden together, as Bill had a race that day. When it was time for him to get ready to compete, Bill asked Rodger if he’d like to hold the toddler. To this day, Lucy talks about how her Uncle Rodger let her take her first sip of a Coke. He just couldn’t resist her charms.

Rodger McFarlane is best known for his work as an activist.

He started the first AIDS hotline, using his home phone, before the disease even had a name. He worked tirelessly to demand research and healthcare beginning in the early years of AIDS, as the terrifying epidemic ravaged the nation’s gay population. Soon he was director of the Gay Men’s Health Crisis and then Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, and finally the Gill Foundation.

Playwright, activist, and close friend Larry Kramer is widely quoted as saying: “I believe he did more for the gay world than any single person has ever done.”

Billy reverts to his 11-year-old self when he tells me he “learned new swears” from Rodger. There was never a dull moment and even when Rodger unleashed a formidable verbal fury, all was soon forgiven. “He was a ‘take no prisoners’ kind of guy. But in the end, he always did the right thing,” Bill told me quietly.

My brother struggled when I asked him how he’d like Rodger to be remembered – and how Rodger would like to be remembered.

The reason Bill struggled wasn’t because he couldn’t think of an answer. His response just sounded corny.

He lived life his way.

What’s that? A tune made famous by the Old Blue Eyes and performed in the Broadway show “Come Fly Away”?

Hit it, Frank!

While listening to My Way, take a look at a few more of Bill’s thoughts about his friend Rodger:

“He gave so much of himself, I knew I was in the presence of greatness. If you didn’t know him, he was intimidating – he looked crazy.

“He had a huge influence on me. I learned from Rodger not to assume you know what’s best for someone who’s 10 or 20 years older than you. He taught me to stand up for what’s important – and finish what you start.

“He reminded me how important love is. We really loved each other. I don’t go a day without thinking about him.”

He was my brother.

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