Word from the Smokies: The staying power of Smokey Bear

My grandfather once told me that on Christmas Eve his family would go find a tree in the woods and then spend the evening trimming the tree and adorning it with lit candles. The family enjoyed its glory for one night only. He mentioned this story on several occasions and each time, his eyes would alight. What made it so magical for him was the brevity. When we know we only have a few hours to embrace an experience, we do not take it for granted.

Life occurs in pendulum swings. We tend to swing too far one way, then too far the other. We may settle in the middle for a while but eventually we begin to swing again. It’s the restlessness of human nature, I suppose. This philosophy has been at the forefront of my mind this holiday season.

Recently I’ve asked a few older people what they recall about their childhood Christmases. None of them mentioned traveling, overspending or getting a plethora of toys. A few mentioned one special toy they’ll always remember because it was something they’d wished and hoped for. One talked of stringing popcorn and berries when decorating the tree and another mentioned playing certain records during the season. Several mentioned Crhistmas being a time when they ate something special like ham, fresh fruit or chocolate. Everyone said they remember the feeling of Christmas above all else, and everyone wore an expression of nostalgia when reminiscing.

Many moving parts culminate to create this feeling that has become so meaningful to all of us. Family, friends, candlelight, cozy fires, gatherings, hanging stockings, kissing under mistletoes, baking cookies and pies, certain scents, carols, Advent wreaths and calendars, receiving cards in the mail, classic movies, seasonal foods, and writing letters to Santa combine to give us that special emotion that is “Christmas.”

Holiday traditions are essential to our species. Throughout evolution, primal rituals and celebrations have helped our tribes thrive. They make life predictable and comforting, which helps us feel safe. They nurture relationships among family members and within our communities. Traditions tie us to our past and offer a sense of belonging within our present circumstances.

Some of my favorite childhood memories include decorating the tree, lighting candles on the coffee table, baking cookies for Santa, watching Christmas movies, finding little scavenger hunt notes in our Advent calendar and drinking Russian tea.

I wonder what memories and traditions my boys will share when they are older. What toy, movie, or event will be high on

the list? This week we made handmade essential oil candles for their teachers, complete with dried herbs and orange peel. It was so fun that we hope to make this a new tradition. That’s the cool thing about traditions. They bend, change and expand through the years. The COVID-19 pandemic was clearly horrible for a slew of reasons, but I believe it did something to our collective conscience that may be beneficial in the long run. The pandemic reminded me that the outside world can change at any moment, that the Susanna Shetley Columnist systems and structure I rely on can come to a sudden halt. With that in mind, I know the only thing I can trust is myself and the only thing I have control over are my own actions and reactions. Further, the pandemic reminded me that life is short and fleeting. No day should be wasted. I like to think of each day as its own little bundle of gifts. When I wake up, I wonder: What will make me laugh today? What stranger will make me smile? What cool thing will one of my kids do? What adventure is waiting to be had? Granted, I still have my moments of overthinking and worrying, but I dwell on these senseless activities less than I did in the past. Before the pandemic, I could get a little excessive when it came to Christmas. I probably spent too much money on gifts, tried to travel when it was exhausting or kept up traditions that maybe weren’t serving me anymore. Now, I’ve come to realize that while some holiday rituals are worth keeping, it’s hard to enjoy anything if busyness and stress are at the forefront. The older generations, like my grandfather and the folks I asked about their memories, had it right all those years ago. They didn’t have Amazon, Spotify or the internet. They didn’t have ongoing, nonstop access to everything. If they wanted to watch a Christmas movie, they had to wait until it came on TV. If they really wanted a toy, they had to wait to see if Santa brought it on Christmas Eve. They were masters of patience, even if they didn’t want to be. Here’s the thing we must remind ourselves and teach our children. Just because we have access to everything doesn’t mean we have to consume it at gluttonous speed. To honor those who came before us and to ensure our own memories are intact, we must slow life down and delay gratification. After many years of overdoing it and worrying about appearances, I feel like the pendulum is swinging back the other way, at least for me. Whenever I get caught up in the hoopla and hustle bustle, I think of my sweet grandfather and his family enjoying the Christmas tree for that one wondrous night. With that thought, my entire perception changes. Merry Christmas, everyone! (Susanna Shetley is writer, editor and digital medial specialist. susanna.b@smokymountainnews.com) Breathe, relax, and take in nature in this completely renovated 3 bed 2 bath pet friendly vacation home.

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BY MIKE HEMBREE

The staying power of Smokey Bear

Many people of a certain age have a special affection for Smokey Bear, or “Smokey the Bear,” as he has also been called.

I remember reading Smokey’s story — how he was rescued from a wildfire in New Mexico in 1950 and became the symbol of fire awareness in the woods for generations. Posters and signs showing Smokey in a park ranger hat were ubiquitous in those first years after the bear’s appearance on the national stage.

As a kid riding in our family’s old Chevrolet into Great Smoky Mountains National Park, I made an immediate connection between Smokey and the Smokies and assumed that the names somehow were related. I admit, however, that I was confused about the two spellings: “Smokey” for the bear and “Smoky” for the park. I couldn’t reconcile that disparity in my young brain, and I’m sure the two spellings still confuse some folks.

Smokey’s story is one of survival against the odds. As fire swept through the Capitan Mountains in New Mexico, the black bear cub became trapped and apparently orphaned by the blaze. He climbed into a tree and managed to escape the worst of the flames but nevertheless sustained badly burned paws and legs before a firefighting crew found him.

After the cub was treated for his burns in Santa Fe and news of his harrowing experience continued to spread, he was made into a popular icon for fire prevention by the U.S. Forest Service and eventually relocated to the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. There, Smokey lived out his days becoming such a celebrity that the U.S. Postal Service granted him his own ZIP code to accommodate the fan mail.

After his death in 1976, Smokey was buried in a place of honor at Smokey Bear Historical Park in New Mexico. Often depicted with a firefighting shovel, Smokey remains a striking symbol for conservation and responsible stewardship across numerous landscapes — even if the nuances of his fire-prevention message have evolved over the years.

Today, SmokeyBear.com continues to share information about campfire safety, but Smokey’s website also features educational resources about fire science and the ecological benefits of fire for different ecosystems. Keeping pace with more contemporary understandings of fire ecology, Smokey helps young people learn about the oak-hickory forests and Southern pine communities that rely on fire disturbance to remove shade, reduce leaf litter on the forest floor, and disperse the seeds of certain trees with serotinous cones, like the Table Mountain pine found in the Great Smoky Mountains.

Smokey still sticks by his old catchphrase — “Only you can prevent wildfires.” But his message also acknowledges the importance of controlled burning and the long history of Native Americans using fire to reshape and rejuvenate the landscape.

This fall, a team including Great Smoky Mountains National Park and Appalachian Piedmont Coastal Fire staff conducted prescribed burn operations in the Cades Cove area of the park. Although shifting weather conditions prevented the team from burning the entire 1,200-acre target area, the operation still helped to reduce fuels, restore meadow habitat for wildlife, and trial the use of drones to safely set and monitor the progress of fires in the park.

“It has been a pleasure to watch the current fire staff and other park staff involve-

ment at all levels to see the completion of two burns, at Cable House and Sparks Lane, for a combined 250 acres,” said Fire Management Officer Brian Tonihka. “The team acknowledging weather patterns to ensure that we meet the objectives over just having completed acres is a testament to the professionalism amongst the fire staff in how prescribed burns should be managed.”

Tonihka says the strategic burns will resume in spring of 2023 and credits the success this fall to the close coordination of several partner organizations including the Nature Conservancy, Tennessee Department of Forestry–Blount County, the Bureau of Indian Affairs-Eastern Cherokee Agency, Townsend Volunteer Fire Department, and Cherokee National Forest.

Although controlled burns have been a routine part of park management for the last 20 years, the dangers posed by unplanned wildfires are still quite real in the Smokies, particularly during dry periods. On Sunday, Nov. 7, a motorcycle accident along Highway

After recovering from his burns in Santa Fe, Smokey Bear was flown in a Piper PA-12 Super Cruiser airplane to the National Zoo in Washington, D.C., where he lived for 26 years. Smokey received so many letters the U.S. Postal Service granted him his

own postal code. Public domain photo

129 on the western boundary of Great Smoky Mountains National Park ignited a roadside wildfire that eventually impacted 40 acres before it was reported to be fully contained two days later. Approximately 60 wildland firefighters from the U.S. Forest Service and National Park Service assisted in fire suppression operations, which included hand-digging firebreak lines and aerial support from helicopter crews.

In the United States, nearly nine out of 10 unplanned wildfires are caused by humans, which means it’s more important than ever to pay attention to our old pal Smokey. Over at SmokeyBear.com, you can take the Smokey pledge: • Be careful anytime you use fire or items that can cause sparks. • Never leave your fire unattended. • Drown, stir, drown again, and feel it’s cool with the back of your hand when you put out your fire. • Do NOT use fire or operate equipment when it’s windy, dry, or hot. • Make sure there are at least 15 feet between your fire and flammable things. • Always have a water source nearby. • Put out and discard smoking materials properly. • Do NOT dump hot ashes from your BBQ grill or firepit.

Mike Hembree is a veteran journalist and the author of 14 books. He has visited 26 national parks and hopes to add many more to that list. Great Smoky Mountains Association

Publications Associate Aaron Searcy provided an editorial update for this article after the November 2022 GSMNP fire.

Steven Lloyd onstage in one of his many HART performances.

(John Highsmith photo) A lifelong performer, Lloyd has acted in hundreds of productions.

(Donated photo)

Curtain call

After 33 years, Steven Lloyd steps down from HART

BY GARRET K. WOODWARD ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR

In the depths of the Fangmeyer Theatre, on the property of the Haywood Arts Regional Theatre (HART), just down the hill from Main Street in Waynesville, Steven Lloyd sits behind his desk.

With a few more clicks of the computer mouse, Lloyd will be doing something he’s been dreaming of doing for a long time — attending the TCM Classic Film Festival in Hollywood, California.

“This is the first time in 33 years that I’ve been able to go on vacation,” Lloyd smiled. “The film festival is in April, then I’m going to Wales and Ireland in May.”

The tantalizing idea of, well, doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants is something Lloyd will have to get used to. You see, after 33 years at the helm as the executive director of HART — arguably one of the finest community theatre companies in the nation — Lloyd will step aside and retire when the clock strikes midnight this New Year’s Eve.

“I mean, I’m still going to be around in some capacity,” Lloyd noted. “People will see me here volunteering, behind the concession stand, and helping out in whatever ways I’m needed. But, now, I won’t have to be responsible for everything to keep the theatre running smoothly.”

And, as a final item on his “to do” list to be crossed off in the coming weeks, Lloyd is overseeing the installation of 48 solar panels on the roof of the main theatre building, which was recently named in his honor for his decades of hard work and commitment to HART — the Steve Lloyd Stage.

“We try to be environmentally responsible, where if you order a glass of wine during a performance, you get an actual glass that we reuse, and not plastic,” Lloyd said. “But, leaving the theatre with solar panels is a real feather in the cap for me.”

At age 69, Lloyd has been toying with the idea of retirement for several years now. But, it was the COVID-19 pandemic and complete shutdown of HART in 2020 which accelerated that process towards his ultimate exit strategy.

“Before COVID, I was here [at the theatre] 60 hours a week, and it had been that way for 30 years,” Lloyd said. “Once COVID hit and the buildings were shut down, I discovered that there were a lot of other things that I enjoyed doing, other hobbies and interests.”

The long and winding road that is the life of Steven Lloyd began in Winston-Salem. His grandparents owned a traveling carnival, with his grandfather a Vaudeville performer in the 1920s. When he was eight years old, Lloyd got a job working for the carnival, selling concessions and doing odd jobs.

“The carnival would go to county fairs and all kinds of places. [My grandparents] had rides, and even owned a gorilla named ‘Suzy,’” Lloyd reminisced. “So, I grew up in a show business family, with an emphasis on the business.”

When he was a kid, Lloyd enjoyed puppetry. With his marionettes and portable stages, he would perform on local television stations and at birthday parties all through high school. At one point, Lloyd teamed up with a magician and toured shopping malls up and down the Eastern Seaboard.

And although Lloyd’s father had aspirations for his son to be a manager at a factory or be a dentist “because you don’t have emergencies and you make a lot of money,” Lloyd eventually found himself at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He graduated with a bachelor’s degree in journalism, then a master’s in speech communication.

“The reason for the degrees in journalism and speech were because I kept trying to avoid theatre,” Lloyd admits. “And, I finally just bit the bullet when I was 29 and went back for an MFA in theatre [from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro] — I knew that I was not going to do anything else but that.”

At that time, Lloyd had already dipped his toes in community theatre as an actor, dancer, and stage manager for “Unto These Hills” — an immensely popular, longtime production still showing in Cherokee.

Even then, Lloyd held strong ties to Western North Carolina. A distant cousin of famed Southern Appalachian writer John Parris (Lloyd’s real last name is Parris, with Lloyd his mother’s maiden name), Lloyd had deep ties to this region, whether through blood or performance.

“There were family reunions up here, so I spent a lot of time in these mountains,” Lloyd said.

In 1988, Lloyd found himself in Waynesville as part of the “Visiting Artist Program” (known as the Edwin Gill Theatre Project) through the UNC system. As the representing artist for Haywood Community

College (HCC) in Clyde, Lloyd and his acting skills soon entered the realm of the Haywood Arts Regional Theatre.

Formed in 1984, HART was still somewhat in its infancy at The Strand Theater on Main Street in Waynesville. By 1990, Lloyd’s twoyear stint through the “Visiting Artist Program” had come to an end.

But, Lloyd didn’t want to leave. Not only did he genuinely enjoy HART and the deeply supportive Waynesville community at-large, he also fell in love with his now husband, Daniel Miller, the couple recently celebrating 35 years together.

“[Daniel] had three kids, and he couldn’t leave this community because [of his family],”

“One of the reasons I knew I could grow this theatre was because everything that I did here drew packed houses at The Strand — the support for the arts in this community was unbelievable.”

— Steven Lloyd

SEE LLOYD, PAGE 23

BY GARRET K. WOODWARD

Remember no man is a failure who has friends

Sunday morning. Across the globe, Argentina and France were battling it out in the World Cup soccer final in Qatar. Half-a-world away, and yet I was already a half-hour late for the early morning “Bloody Marys & Futbol” party up the mountain ridge outside of town at my friend’s house.

Rolling over to check the time on my smart phone, I groaned that I had slept in and missed the start of the game, even though I was wide awake at 6 a.m. After some restless scrolling on Instagram and wandering down into a YouTube rabbit hole of videos, I fell back into sleep, only to open my eyes again at 10:30 a.m.

I suppose if the United States were still in the fight, I’d have shot out of bed and made my way to the party. Though, by all accounts, this year’s final was a game for the ages. But, whatever the case, something deep inside me didn’t feel like watching the match. And, for me, I’ll always follow that instinct way down below in my gut.

That feeling deep inside told me, “Slow down, it’s been a long, whirlwind year. How ‘bout actually taking the time to make yourself breakfast, at your own pace, and with how many pieces of bacon your damn little heart desires?” Thankfully, I’d listened to that feeling deep down the night before, when I was grocery shopping, ultimately picking up a robust packet of bacon, eggs, yogurt, berries, and cold brew coffee.

Truth be told, it felt nice to go grocery shopping at my local Ingles on Russ Avenue in Waynesville. I couldn’t begin to remember the last time I stepped foot in there. I’ve been on the road so much this year — on writing assignments coast-to-coast or merely due to family obligations up in the North Country — that I was rarely home enough to justify buying groceries for myself, seeing as past experiences resulted in uneaten food being thrown away. Money wasted, a no-no for us scrappy, vagabond writers and ole road dogs.

So, it was decided. Screw the World Cup. I want bacon, eggs, yogurt, berries, and cold brew coffee. Nowhere to be, but here right now in my humble abode apartment. Pull up the window blinds. Look out onto downtown Waynesville in the mid-morning hour. Throw some Mile Davis “Kind of Blue” on the stereo, skip ahead to “Blue in Green,” then put the rest of the seminal jazz album on shuffle.

After a joyous breakfast for one, after washing the dishes and putting them away, after taking the last sip of my cold brew coffee, it was time for a little bit of writing. My personal philosophy is to live each day in three parts: constructive creation, physical movement, and purposeful leisure. A full day, indeed.

The idea being, in essence, I can’t have a cold beer and some fun until I go for a run or exercise and “sweat it out,” and I can’t exercise until I’ve done some work. Doesn’t have to be a lot of work, but at least something to say and feel that my day wasn’t wasted in the endless pursuit of long held dreams in real time.

Type away wildly with the lingering effects of the caffeine from the cold brew. Put thoughts and emotions onto the empty page. Attach to an email to your editor. Submit. Put the window blinds back down. Turn off the Miles Davis on the stereo. Reach for the outdoor running gear. Lace up the shoes. Lock the front door. Start trotting around downtown.

Circling back to the apartment, I felt that deep feeling again, but this time it said, “You haven’t been to the movies in a while. What’s playing?” Well, turns out there was a special holiday screening of the 1946 classic “It’s a Wonderful Life.” A $12.50 purchase later, I had a ticket for the 4:30 p.m. showing.

For one of the greatest films ever conceived to once again resurface in a modernera theater was a truly unique thing to behold, but it seemed I was one of the few

aware of that fact. Every other screen was packed for the new “Avatar” sequel. My screen was mostly empty. Myself and four other sentimental, old souls on an otherwise quiet Sunday afternoon watching a film that most of us have only watched on TV. Immediately, I felt a tug at my heart when “It’s a Wonderful Life” appeared on the screen. I also realized it was the first real action on my part to acknowledge and appreciate the current holiday season. Something about classic cinema that just does it for me, hitting all the feels, you know? Especially when its Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed playfully interacting before Trail running in your eyes, “What is it you want, Mary? What Haywood do you want? You want the moon? Just say County. (Garret K. the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and Woodward photo) pull it down.” By the end of the film, when Stewart reads the card from Clarence the Angel — the iconic “Remember no man is a failure who has friends” part — I felt the heaviness that I’d been carrying for a while now slowly evaporate from the depths of my soul. All that sadness and grief weighing me down from personal losses throughout the last couple of years (hell, any year) chipped away and fell to the ground like ice. There was a kick in my step leaving the theater, as does happen when the heart sings in curious wonder and sincere gratitude after an experience such as that, a certain melody ringing through my mind, “Buffalo Gals can’t you come out tonight. Can’t you come out tonight.” The rollercoaster of existence. The ebb and flow of the highs and lows. Even in the deepest depths, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. Remember, nothing matters except love, friendship, and dreams chased after with a reckless abandon. That, and throwing as many pieces of bacon onto the frying pan as your damn little heart desires. Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.

1Haywood County rock group The Brothers Gillespie will hit the stage for its annual “Christmas Eve Eve Bash” at 8:30 p.m. Friday, Dec. 23, at The Gem downstairs taproom at Boojum Brewing in downtown Waynesville.

2Regional country/rock artist Jon Cox will perform at 8 p.m. Thursday, Dec. 22, at The Scotsman in Waynesville.

3Orchard Coffee (Waynesville) will host Young Mister (singersongwriter) 7:30 p.m. Friday, Dec. 23.

4Frog Level Brewing (Waynesville) will host Kind Clean Gentlemen (rock/blues) 5:30 p.m. Thursday, Dec. 22.

5Innovation Brewing (Sylva) will host Old Sap (Americana/folk) 7 p.m. Thursday, Dec. 22.

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LLOYD, CONTINUED FROM 20 Lloyd said. “So, I knew I was going to have to figure out a way to stay here once the [‘Visiting Artist Program’] was over.”

Thus, Lloyd approached HART and asked if they would hire him as the executive director. HART said yes and so began Lloyd’s career in charge of a small, yet growing theatre company, one with unlimited potential. Sure, there will endless bills to be paid and things that needed to be done, but there were butts in the seats every single show.

“One of the reasons I knew I could grow this theatre was because everything that I did here drew packed houses at The Strand — the support for the arts in this community was unbelievable,” Lloyd said.

But, growing pains soon emerged in the early 1990s, with HART trying to find stable ground — literally and figuratively. While balancing a moving target of a budget and trying (successfully) to make a profit, Lloyd knew HART’s tenure at The Strand was coming to an end.

“I had two seasons there [as executive director] before the fire marshal kicked us out,” Lloyd chuckled. “The building was not up to code and the owner of the building was not willing to put any money into it. And we couldn’t invest hundreds of thousands of dollars into something we were renting.”

In 1992, HART found refuge at the auditorium in HCC, a place it called home until it finally had a permanent home of its own with the grand opening of the 10,000-squre-foot Performing Arts Center on the campus of The Shelton House in 1997.

Through two highly successful capital campaigns, one to erect the PAC, and later the 9,000-square-foot Daniel & Belle Fangmeyer Theatre (opening in 2016), Lloyd will always be grateful to the kind, generous donations from the general public — those longtime supporters who believed in HART’s mission to showcase quality arts and culture productions right here in our backyard.

“[The PAC] cost $850,000 in 1997. We opened it with a couple hundred thousand dollars already towards the mortgage, and it was paid for by 2001,” Lloyd said. “And the [Fangmeyer Theatre] cost $1.3 million — we burned that mortgage last month.”

Aside from an endless sea of volunteers and local folks steadfast in keeping the HART ship pushing ahead, Lloyd also pointed to the mere fact the theatre company has always worked within its means.

“We have a budget and we stick to it,” Lloyd said. “It’s a realistic budget, a conservative budget. We don’t do crazy stuff. I mean, we take risks, we’ve done shows that nobody else has the courage to do. But, we also make sure we’ve got ‘The Music Man’ in the middle of the summer to pay for everything.”

Of the hundreds and hundreds (upwards of 400) of HART productions that occurred under Lloyd’s watch — either at the PAC or the Fangmeyer, through Kids at HART or the black box stage known as the Feichter Studio — he’s most proud of putting on the musical “Parade” in 2000, a dramatization of the 1913 trial and imprisonment (and 1915 lynching) of Jewish American Leo Frank in Georgia.

“It is a spectacularly beautiful, powerful piece. And I don’t know of any other theatre that’s had the guts to do it,” Lloyd said. “We did a great production of that, and the community turned out and supported it — I’m really proud of that.”

When asked what was the biggest obstacle overcome in his career, Lloyd immediately pointed to the survival of HART through the 2020 pandemic — the immense effort to keep the lights on come hell or high water, the donations arriving in the mail before the theatre company was able to get federal grants and loans to stay afloat.

“We shut down on March 13, [2020], and if we had to refund everything to everybody that had paid ahead of time, we’d have been broke by April 1st,” Lloyd said. “Our patrons told us to keep the money. And people sent us money without us going out and asking — they just wanted to make sure we survived.”

Reflecting on the last 33 years at HART, Lloyd can vividly recall every single performance. But, more importantly, he can still picture and visualize every single actor, director, and stage hand that stepped foot onto the stage — his stage, one of passion, compassion, and inclusivity.

“The buildings are one thing, but the things that happened in these buildings — all the people who met each other, children who have come into this world because of those people meeting, and the shows that were done to bring people together — this theatre changed this community,” Lloyd said in a humbled tone. Taking over Lloyd’s duties as executive director in the New Year will be Candice Dickinson, an extremely talented actor and performer who has held the position of artistic director at HART in recent years. “[Candice] has a vision of what she wants to do, and that’s reinvigorating — she’s bubbly and vivacious, and has the energy to do this,” Lloyd said. “I don’t have anything left on my bucket list [for shows to direct]. And it’s nice to step away and let the younger generation have their chance, let somebody else have their turn — I’ve had my turn for 33 years.” In a whimsical, full circle kind of thing, Lloyd can’t help but laugh in awe of the notion of him once again, now in retirement, working the concession stand at HART — a gig he hasn’t had since he first entered show business working as a young kid for his grandparents’ carnival those many years ago.

“[Stepping down] is a little surreal. Like anything you’ve been part of for such a long time, it’s been incremental in the way it has grown. But, it’s strange to walk around here and look at everything, and know when something was bought, and when it came into the building,” Lloyd said, slowing scanning the walls of his office, peering out his door and into the Fangmeyer building its situated in.

With his official retirement now less than two weeks away, Lloyd is looking forward to more quality time with his seven grandchildren, who, lately, have been the lucky recipients of numerous homemade dishes of culinary delights — cooking being one of the many new hobbies Lloyd is immersing himself in these days.

“You know, it meant a lot when they named the [main stage] theatre for me,” Lloyd said. “It means a lot because people are forgotten pretty quickly. And I have seven grandchildren now — and that’s going to mean something to them.”

Lloyd and his husband, Daniel Miller (left).

(Donated photo)

“It’s nice to step away and let the younger generation have their chance, let somebody else have their turn — I’ve had my turn for 33 years.”

— Steven Lloyd Steven Lloyd.

(Garret K. Woodward photo)

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