Many said I was cold-blooded for betraying a dying man for cold hard cash
The reality is, I honored a living man and his family for a year, while sacrificing valuable time with my own.
My youngest son is two and a half years-old now, but was barely one, then and for the year I shot Steve’s film, I would have to regain his infant trust each time I got home from extended trips to New Orleans. I was tunnel-vision focused and strained my closest relationships and ignored my long-time friends. When I took on this project with Steve, it became the third documentary I was shooting, simultaneously, all with borrowed personal funds from my fiancee. The sacrifice was difficult, but when I traveled to NOLA, I felt like I was coming home to a family, even as I was neglecting my own. After I wrote a poem about Steve, The Soulful Steve G, I was literally open-arm-welcomed into the Varisco clan (his wife Michel’s family). The matriarch, my personal favorite, “Jilly V,” told me, “you are family.” I have never met a woman more inviting and genuinely sweet as this lady. I miss her welcoming energy tremendously.
I was given nicknames by the guys, “Sonny,” “Seanny P.” I was kissed on the lips by Jilly V when I arrived and hugged with powerful affection by friends and family every time I left. I never had to rent a hotel room or a car. Most of the time I was …