Colorado lawmaker, Steadman, vows to pass civil union bill in honor of late partner

State Senator Pat Steadman, surrounded Monday by hundreds of friends, colleagues and constituents, celebrated the life of his late-partner Dave Misner, vowed to pass a bill to establish civil unions here in Misner’s honor and charged mourners to cherish every moment as Misner did.

Misner died Sept. 16 after sharing more than a dozen years with Steadman and battling pancreatic cancer for 81 days. He was 48.

“Yes, I’d do anything to have him back, so we could carry out the ‘sinister’ gay agenda: growing older together, becoming grandparents … The lesson to take away,” Steadman said, “is to fill every moment with love, because you may not have as many moments as you think.”

Southern Oregon native and father of two, Misner was remembered for his smile, charisma and heart. He was the perfect political spouse, dedicated employee, jovial friend, and — above all else — a devoted father, Misner’s family and friends eulogized.

Steadman and Misner met shortly after Misner moved to Colorado to start anew as an out gay man.

“He was looking for a man. And so was I,” Steadman said.

The Denver Democrat, who sponsored the Colorado Civil Union Act during the last two regular sessions of the Colorado General Assembly, spoke of his “beloved” with equal parts reverence and humor.

“He liked dogs… He liked pedicures… He was an Eagle Scout… He loved being barefoot… He loved being naked, as you can tell from some of the pictures,” Steadman said as images of Misner’s life scrolled a large screen in front of the room.

“(Misner’s son) called him daddy,” Steadman continued. “That name stuck. That’s what I called him, too. He was a daddy.”

Steadman said Misner completed him in “every way.” And Misner was always ready to help the senator succeed.

Throughout their years together, Misner would “flirt his way through rubber chicken dinners,” and dress as a polar bear in the middle of summer to help raise awareness and garner votes for a campaign Steadman was working on to re-authorize a tax for the arts. Just weeks ago, in between doctor visits and cancer treatments, Misner helped build yard signs for Steadman’s re-election campaign.

“I have no idea how to do all the things we used to do together,” Steadman said. “It’s not just campaigning — it’s stuff like remembering which days to take out the trash.”

Most recently, Misner worked for the City of Denver in its parking division.

“He made the city a better place for everyone,” Mayor Michael Hancock said. “Even if he was passing out tickets.”

Before moving to Colorado, Misner climbed the corporate ladder at a McDonald’s franchise, first flipping burgers, later managing an entire region of restaurants, his father Howard Misner said.

As a friend, Misner was a constant source of compassion.

Jeff Thormodsgaard, who first worked for Steadman at his lobbying firm before becoming on of the family’s closest friends, said Misner would often leave yellow envelopes reserved for parking tickets on his car near the Capitol with friendly notes inside reminding Thormodsgaard of what was important in life — not the hustling of a vote count, but of friendship.

“This is the thing about Dave,” Thormodsgaard said, “he made all of us happy.”

Two people Misner made the happiest were his children, they said.

“My dad is probably the coolest person,” Courtney Davidson said. “Anybody who knows me knows, growing up I always thought I was a princess. Not many girls got to say their dad was a princess, too.”

“My father taught me how to be a man and how to provide for myself,” Nick Misner said.

Both children shared their thanks for Steadman and said he was the only man capable of filling Misner’s shoes as a father – something Steadman vowed to do.

Steadman also promised, in front of a standing-room-only crowd that spilled out to a balcony and into the foyer of the Denver Botanic Gardens’ Mitchell Hall, to finish the job he started with Misner by his side: create relationship recognition for Colorado same-sex couples.

Steadman said he and Misner had documents to establish what would happen after Misner died. “But we did not have the dignity of being equal in the eyes of the law.”

Misner had asked Steadman several times to get married, but Steadman refused, he told the gathering, since Colorado did not afford relationship recognition to same-sex couples.

“I didn’t want an empty ceremony … we didn’t need another toaster. I thought we could wait and do something about it,” Steadman said.

And the Democrat tried, twice, in as many years, thwarted by party politics.

“I wanted some of that equality for us,” he said. “(But this) will not detour me from my work. Despite my personal loss, my mission is urgent and is within my grasp.”