Throwback Thursday: A Two-fer

Shot in the same hotel room 10 years apart. How strange is that?

1992: Washington, DC October weekend.  March on Washington for Equal Rights and the last display of the entire Names Project AIDS Memorial Quilt. It just got too big and fragile after so many years. Spent more time at the Quilt than in the march because that's where I was needed.

2002: Washington, DC October weekend. March on Washington against the War in Iraq. Dressed for the ordination of a friend which happened to be the same weekend. I offered the Prayers of the People during the ceremony.

Yep!  Same room, same hotel.  I never noticed it before now. What are the odds?

And so it goes.
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Blast From The Past - Long Thought Lost

As I get ready for the assembly of the new desk I have gone rummaging through a plastic tube filled with smaller boxes and bags containing old office stuff, newspaper clippings, and letters to editors; not to mention odds and ends like these from my previous life, a few memorables from my activist and volunteer days. 

These are a few items discovered in an old #10 envelope box. Thought I’d scan and post them before they hit the trash with so many other memories this week. 

Memories of good people and events, and some very sad times. When I find this stuff I have to pinch myself and ask “Was that really me? Was I really there? When did I stop doing so much, and why?”

Boggles the mind to this day.

And so it goes.

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New Blood and the Old Medical Merry-Go-Round

Turns out that I really, truly needed a transfusion yesterday.  Only had one unit on-hand.  Dizzy, short of breath, and nausea are usually the give-aways.  But, they came on fast, hard, and all at once.  Took a while to absorb the new juice and get balance back.

Because of the possible damage to my innards by the corticosteroid, a prescription for Protonix was called in, which they insist will protect the stomach and reduce acidity.  It's been years since I've had heartburn, gas, or indigestion.  Since changing my diet all that discomfort is a thing of the past.  But, I'll pick up the drug, JIC I do need it down the road.

On the way home I stopped at the Eye Institute on the off chance of getting a quick eye exam and prescription for new glasses.  Never been there before and I must say it is a horrible place, staffed by people with horrible attitudes, who have a rigid way of doing business - no diverting from the protocol set, seemingly, in stone. 

The interior looks more like a government building, or a bank.  Dark wood panelling, brass and leather everywhere, and a 'reception area' that looks like a series of bank teller windows. The women receptionists never made eye contact, half listened to a question, then interjected irrational company policy. Stifle all questions, why dontcha!

The only time I made eye contact was when I asked about quick exam and a copy of the prescription, which I would have filled elsewhere. She shot me a look as if I just said "I have pee'd on your rug here."  More rehashed rhetoric was all that was forthcoming. So, I left, as she yelled after me to fill out an application for an appointment which would take about a week to verify.

Application?  Verify?  

WTF!  I'm not looking for a fucking loan, lady, just new glasses. I waved her off. I wasn't about to go back for an explanation after the rude and arrogant behavior. All I need is an exam and prescription.  No $300.00 frames to go with them. I can order lenses and frames online - get 3 pair for less than that #300.00. Including overnight shipping for an extra $10.00. 

I snagged a bottle of Merlot to enjoy with supper least evening as I headed back to town. While I was pretty dizzy and uncomfortable I was going to pay another visit to the boardwalk before going home. It began to rain as I neared town however, so that put a damper (so to speak) on that idea. 

So, I've spent hours on the Google only to discover that I do, indeed, live in a wasteland for fast, convenient medical care. That includes eye care, too. Nothing within a 30 mille radius. The nearest big chain stores are in Philadelphia or Wilmington, and I am not in shape to make that drive. They also don't do exams anymore, but partner with Optometrists nearby, who perform the exams while the Lens Crafters or Sterling Optical folks only fill the prescriptions.  Nice set up - - - for them. 

Getting an appointment with local optometrists has proved fruitless.  Seems no one works on Saturdays or Tuesdays. (Are they Optometrists or Hairdressers?) Most don't even have an exam request line for a call back to schedule an appointment.

Annoying, to say the least.  But, yes - it is what it is.

Began gathering documents for the 2013 tax returns. Everything is chaotic here, though  I always try to keep all tax stuff together in one folder.  Made it about half way before getting really tired and the beginnings of a headache. I made a quick supper, had a glass of wine and felt better.  Was in bed and fast asleep by 8 pm.  Nice, that. 

After a nice breakfast, I finished gathering the tax stuff.  Packed it up, and got it ready for the Post Office on Monday. The PO closes at Noon on Saturdays. One more day isn't going to hurt. Besides, I'm feeling a lot better now. 

Today is absolutely stunning outdoors.  Blue sky, light breeze and a high of about 65'F.   I'll take it. I'll also take a ride down to the boardwalk for a little sunshine and warm breeze to end the week on a high note.

And so it goes.

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Being Boring

Yes, that's it!  Pet Shop Boys! Aside from additional boring medical mishugas, I've nothing more to offer other than this.  The opening song of their "Behavior" album, and the closing number of this concert a few years ago.

It's telling to me that - after a 2-hour concert - Neil chose to sing this one live, and alone. To me, this is their most personal and moving piece.  "Behavior" is in the car player at this time and this seemed to fit my mood of the last few days.

I hope you listen to the lyrics, and remember,  and enjoy.


And so it goes.
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I Have The Blue Meanies

That's self-diagnosis…I'm Not Dead Yet!

Been keeping myself quiet and resting, or trying to, to hold the nausea at bay.  So far, so good. Not eating much, of course.  I took a duck leg out of the freezer, hoping that would spark me up and give me an appetite.  (Like I really feel like cooking!) We'll see.

I could use some cheering up from old friends, but they're all gone now. I'm reminded of that Sondheim song "Hey. Old Friend!" and wish I was rolling merrily along with those old friends. One hell of a lot better life than this.

Haven't been on FaceBook for a week and don't miss it. From social media it's become a commercial site for "friends" hawking their new book, or offering a new retirement plan - - to their "friends." Those friends were purged.

In my present condition I have nothing to add the conversation and I doubt if anyone has missed my personal posts.  

Old friends know your life and history. They know just about everything there is to know about you - as you know them.  We shared apartment keys and looked out for one another. The bonds were strong, non-judgemental, and unspoken. We may not always liked the criticism, but we knew where it was coming from and trusted the source. We just knew. Those comforts and connections are gone now.

"Blue Meanies" were popularized as villains in the animated film, "Yellow Submarine" but it was a phrase used by my friends way before the Beatles. It meant a funk, depression, or feeling trapped by circumstances.

I'm having an attack of the Blue Meanies and there's no one to call. Like Sondheim says: 

Most friends fade 

Or they don't make the grade 

New ones are quickly made 

And in a pinch, sure they'll do 

But us, old friend 

What's to discuss, old friend? 

Here's to us.   

Who's like us? 

Damn few!

Indeed.

And so it goes.

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World AIDS Day - 2013

By this date 30 years ago I had already lost a half dozen friends. Others were being diagnosed weekly and struggling to cope with the inevitable.

Sweet Honey in the Rock recorded "Patchwork Quilt" on their "In This Land" CD and it's been my personal tradition to listen to this powerful song every year as I remember my friends and the good times we shared.

I couldn't find a Sweet Honey performance on video, but here is a stylized version by the young people at Goucher College.

There is a candlelight procession through town culminating with a service of remembrance and reading of names at a local church.  Even if I am unable to attend, I am glad it's happening.

More later.

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Wish I Felt Like Dancin'

Not to interfere with Anne Marie's Saturday Night Dance Party - I am posting this as my Sunday "Tea Dance" special. 

Here's a song from one of my favorite artists, Jimmy Somerville and Bronski Beat. It's from a live broadcast of  Britain's TOTP (Top of the Pops) TV show in 1984. They had just burst upon the music scene.  Jimmy would move on to form The Communards a few years later (I'll post a few clips from  those recordings at a later date.) 

Jimmy became an outspoken, unapologetic icon, especially on his later solo albums. I saw him perform at NYC Pride on the pier back in the 90s.  For you film and/or Virginia Woolf fans Jimmy performs in full Elizabethan dress in a cameo scene in the film "Orlando" on the Queen's barge as it floats up river in the early part of the film.

Here is Jimmy performing "Smalltown Boy" which was a huge hit in Europe and the US. It became a sort of Gay anthem that year as AIDS raged on both sides of the pond. 

I'm posting this because Jimmy is still singing his sweet little Falsetto head off in this song on tour this summer all over Europe. Which brings me to the next short video. In Berlin this year, a street musician on guitar leaning against a building is singing - - - Smalltown Boy.  When Jimmy (of all people) out walking his dog, stops to listen and sing along.  He even gives the musician a surprise hug when the guy asks "are you him?"  It's cute and powerful at the same time. I mean the song is 30 years old!  Think about that.  



Jimmy Somerville has covered songs by Donna Summer, Thelma Houston, Sylvester, The Bee Gees, and Gloria Gaynor to name a few biggies. His is a voice like no other. 

A little not-so-ancient history for your November Sunday.   You're Welcome.

More later.
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3 Steps Forward - 0 Steps Back

That is something practically unheard-of  around here, where it's usually 1 step forward - 2 steps back.  So, I'll take this good fortune, thank you very much.

Went to breakfast at our other restaurant in Lewes, DE. It was the first time I've seen my friends and co-workers in a month, and my first dine out since August. I requested a table far from any groups or families, they put me back in the corner, which made it easier for us to chat and catch up on what's been going on since my illness hit. It was great fun to talk with others - rather than to myself - and enjoy a really delicious breakfast of eggs, bacon, home fries, biscuits, and a good cup of coffee.  Heavenly.

My appetite is good but I continue to lose weight.  Down another pound to 167' 2 days ago at the Dr.'s office. Frustrating!

Mailed a form to the SSA asking that they discontinue withholding Federal Tax from my monthly check.  I don't know when any action will be taken.  There is a big blue banner on the main page with disclaimers due to the Shutdown.  I don't know why, the SSA is a separate entity with it's own pool of funds - and there is a surplus of a few billion in the account. Scare tactics by the Repugs, more than likely. Anyway, we shall see.

Stopped by Dos Locos for a few minutes to see Linda (the GM) and other staff. There were gentle hugs all round, but no one wanted to stay too close for fear of passing on something that might cause infection. The human contact was something I've sorely missed.  (It made me think of the isolation PWAs had to endure back in the 80s when it was rare for anyone to touch, never mind hug, a person with AIDS - for very different reasons, of course. Now I know how that must have felt, and it isn't good.) While there I offered to give Linda my keys to the restaurant, but she refused.  I guess she's hoping I'll come back soon.  I am, too.  I miss my job terribly, honestly, I do.

Received a heads-up email this morning that the new Mac MINI, is out for delivery. "Signature Required" when it arrives. They will not leave an Apple package on the porch. Fine with me, it's raining buckets here and I wouldn't want the boxes to get wet.  The storm has been sitting off the coast, not going anywhere and continually hitting us with wind-driven heavy rains.

Later: The boxes have arrived and I can't wait to tear into them. They are very small, really. Mac users have told me how easy they are to set up, all one has to do is follow on-screen instructions and I'll be in business in no time. We'll see.  And yes, it gives me something to look forward to, as well as wake up some inactive brain cells rather than the passive ones that make up my daily routine. 

The hematologist's office finally called, there is an appointment set up for next Wednesday. Someone is lined up to drive with me (it's 60 miles north of here) in case I have a adverse reaction to tests or any drugs they give me.  At least those are two things less to worry about. Another biopsy in in my future, but not sure if they will do that during the first visit, or schedule it for another day. With my luck it will be the latter.  

Note: Today marks the 6th day without chills, headache, or a fever. May this good luck continue until I see the hematologist next week.

Now where is that box cutter?

And so it goes.
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Cinco de Mayo; Oh That's Right

At work at 7:30 am this morning.  Did the prep for the wait and kitchen staff and got coffee brewing for their arrival. Everyone - kitchen and wait staff - was on time and got down to the business of opening the place.
Between 9 am and noon: Served 36 Mexican Brunch dishes.

By comparison, from 12 to 4 pm:  549 meals were served  from regular menus. A real madhouse! While it was crazy-making, it was also instructional and enlightening; giving me insights for dealing with large parties on a busy day.

After clocking out,  I ran from the place and into the quiet peace of my home-street.  I didn't want an AS  cocktail; only peace and quiet. Made supper listening to music and sipping on a cocktail. One has to do what one has to do, right?

ibuprofen is in my immediate future; as is a nice hot shower to help me sleep soundly tonight.  I have to be at work again in the morning at 7:30 am.

And so it goes.
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Happy Birthday Keith Haring

Google celebrates what would have been his 54th birthday today.  A nice remembrance.

Not forgotten, and that's a good thing.

And so it goes.
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Colonialism Helped Launch the HIV Epidemic a Century Ago

With ACT-UP commemorating their 25th anniversary recently, I found this article very interesting. Very interesting, indeed. From the Washington Post:

We are unlikely to ever know all the details of the birth of the AIDS epidemic. But a series of recent genetic discoveries have shed new light on it, starting with the moment when a connection from chimp to human changed the course of history.
We now know where the epidemic began: a small patch of dense forest in southeastern Cameroon. We know when: within a couple of decades on either side of 1900. We have a good idea of how: A hunter caught an infected chimpanzee for food, allowing the virus to pass from the chimp’s blood into the hunter’s body, probably through a cut during butchering.
As to the why, here is where the story gets even more fascinating, and terrible. We typically think of diseases in terms of how they threaten us personally. But they have their own stories. Diseases are born. They grow. They falter, and sometimes they die. In every case these changes happen for reasons.
For decades nobody knew the reasons behind the birth of the AIDS epidemic. But it is now clear that the epidemic’s birth and crucial early growth happened during Africa’s colonial era, amid massive intrusion of new people and technology into a land where ancient ways still prevailed. European powers engaged in a feverish race for wealth and glory blazed routes up muddy rivers and into dense forests that had been traveled only sporadically by humans before.
The most disruptive of these intruders were thousands of African porters. Forced into service by European colonial powers, they cut paths through the exact area that researchers have now identified as the birthplace of the AIDS epidemic. It was here, in a single moment of transmission from chimp to human, that a strain of virus called HIV-1 group M first appeared.
In the century since, it has been responsible for 99 percent of all of the world’s deaths from AIDS — not just in Africa but in Moscow, Bangkok, Rio de Janeiro, San Francisco, New York, Washington. All that began when the West forced its will on an unfamiliar land, causing the essential ingredients of the AIDS epidemic to combine.
It was here, by accident but with motives by no means pure, that the world built a tinderbox and tossed in a spark.

The chimps of Cameroon

Many simians, such as gorillas and monkeys, can carry a virus that resembles HIV. But scientists now know that HIV-1 group M was born from a virus circulating among a community of chimpanzees concentrated in Cameroon, a sprawling country with bustling Atlantic Ocean ports, populous highlands, and a lightly developed southern region where relatively few people live even today. This was home to the chimps.
Finding a more exact location took a remarkable degree of scientific ingenuity. An international research team led by Beatrice Hahn of the University of Alabama at Birmingham and Paul Sharp of the University of Edinburgh developed an elaborate project that involved searching for the simian virus in chimp feces collected across a vast swath of southern Cameroon.

To read the whole, fascinating piece, click HERE.

In memory of all those we have lost.

And so it goes.
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Diverse, Interesting Quotes Reverberate Today

Found these images while scanning and thought they were important to reconsider in today's political climate.

Foucault's Names Project Quilt Panel says it well.

Part of Washington's Farewell Address.  Should be required reading of every police officer in this country.

As always, click the images to embiggen.

And so it goes.
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World AIDS Day 2011

Comes with a slick, new message.  Let's hope people are listening and are willing to work to make this slogan a reality.

If you are in RB this evening, the gathering and candlelight walk begins at 6 pm at the bandstand. All Saints Episcopal Church will host a service of remembrance and reading of the names submitted by those who have lost loved ones to AIDS over the years.

More later.
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The Normal Heart on Broadway, Finally.

It's about time!  I was unable to see the original  at the Public, taking care of a friend in the process of dying at the time.  From HuffPo:

The first production of "The Normal Heart" opened in 1985 for a record run at The Public Theater. Drawn from the years between 1981 and 1984, it is an autobiography of activism in the midst of a new disease that inexplicably began killing once-healthy young men. It is thick with politics, heartbreak, and fear.
Twenty six years later -- and with approximately 33.3 million people worldwide living with HIV -- the production made its Broadway debut.
At the center of the story is Ned Weeks (based on the playwright, Larry Kramer) the founder of an AIDS activist organization (based on Gay Men’s Health Crisis) from which he is expelled because of his short temper and hostility.
The play opens at the dawn of the AIDS crisis, when the disease was a mumbling terror in the community of gay men, a sudden death sentence with no medical explanation. Weeks (played by Joe Mantello) becomes quickly mired in the inexplicable deaths of those close to him. Furious at the lack of information, he organizes. Here lies one theme of the play: one must keep fighting, no matter how poor one's reputation might become, how peculiar one's tactics or how many friends one might lose.
As did Kramer, Ned fights Mayor Ed Koch to have him acknowledge the disease; he fights the New York Times to have them cover it; and he fights the medical establishment to have them treat it. He fights with friends, colleagues, and acquaintances who do their best to continue living lives of sexual caprice in spite of so many terrible, nebulous warnings. He makes enemies.
It is not a wholly flattering depiction on the part of Larry Kramer: he draws Ned as an organizer and combatant, but also a name-caller and a hot head.
Reviews of the 1985 show questioned the level of activism in the play -- whether the characters were cutouts serving an agenda rather than a plot. Frank Rich, for the Times, described some of those scenes more heavily steeped in the politics of organization as resembling, "a parochial legal brief designed to defend its protagonist against his political critics."
Early productions may well have played that way, but The Normal Heart of 1985 was a very different story from the 2011 production, and certainly did not have half as powerful a cast. Today, the leaders of nearly every organization challenged in the script have been replaced many times over, and those lines that maybe once reached audiences and critics as hyperbolic or hysterical now ache with prophecy.
Ned Weeks is a ranter, a geyser of statistics and evidence, of legal questions and well-worked debate. It's hard to breathe life into some of these monologues, these massive tirades. But Mantello seems to understand that what the audience needs here is not just to listen to every fact listed. He turns lecture into theater and makes us understand why it is Ned fights the way he does. One can portray a certain dogmatism without being dogmatic.
These were the years when no one knew why they were dying. No one knew how AIDS was transmitted -- if it was sexual or not, if it could be transferred by a cough, or a sneeze, or a kiss. When Ned holds his dying lover in his arms, all his ranting at authorities, his name-calling and anger make sense.
On the night of the play's debut, the crowd was not a knot of young activists in t-shirts and jeans. They were finely dressed, young and old. Many men wore handsome sport coats and glasses, accompanied by lovers and friends. There was an immense warmth at intermission, a chatty conviviality, pats on shoulders, laughter that faded only when the lights went down for the second act.
From the last row of The Golden Theater, Larry Kramer, seventy-five years old and dressed in black, listened to his audience. Soon, sniffing had become weeping. One woman just a few seats in front of the playwright broke down in tears. For the curtain call, he took the stage before an audience already on its feet.
What had once been a polemical treatise had become something more. After two and a half decades, the audience had the ability to see what the production could accomplish theatrically, not just politically.

I would dearly love to see this one.

And so it goes.

Museum Marks 30 Years - The Emergence of HIV/AIDS

I still have these buttons and many more from over the years.  I would very much like to see this exhibit, but not sure I could handle the memories of the chaos, hate, disrespect, and outrageous fear that seared those years forever in the minds of those who survived and/or were caregivers.

The Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History will mark the 30th anniversary of the emergence of what became known as the HIV and AIDS epidemic with a three-part display and website beginning June 3.
“HIV and AIDS Thirty Years Ago” will look at the public health, scientific and political responses in the early phase (1981-87) of the global pandemic. This showcase will be located in the museum’s “Science in American Life” exhibition, which focuses on the connections among science, culture and society in American history. The display will feature photographs, magazine covers and other graphics plus equipment that Dr. Jay Levy used to isolate the virus in his lab at the University of California, San Francisco, a copy of the Surgeon General’s 1986 report presenting the government’s position, samples of the drugs AZT and Retrovir and public health information pamphlets from AIDS service organizations. The website will be available at americanhistory.si.edu/hivaids.
In “Archiving the History of an Epidemic: HIV and AIDS, 1985-2009,” the museum’s Archives Center will show how individuals and society were affected by the epidemic through a selection of archival materials from its collections, including posters for the 1993 movie Philadelphia with Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington and the 1989 film Longtime Companion; brochures, photographs and other popular culture materials; and quotes from oral histories of people affected by the epidemic.

The rest of the story is HERE.  

More later.

Hero of the Month: Dame Elizabeth Taylor

From AMERICAblog Gay and posted by Liz Newcomb. Here's a snippet that appears about half-way through the piece:

I’ve always associated Taylor with AIDS activism. However, I did not realize the magnitude of her impact until I began to research this piece. Taylor made AIDS her life’s cause. At a time when the disease was called "the gay plague" and others were afraid to even touch people with HIV, Taylor employed her star power to help humanize those living with the disease. She made headlines throughout the world when she was photographed shaking hands with HIV/AIDS patients in a Thai hospital. She helped found the American Foundation for AIDS Research (amFAR) in 1985, and later, in 1991, the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation (ETAF).

The rest is a must-read for anyone who lived through the beginnings of the epidemic witnessing the horrible, tragic, and sometimes brutal treatment of people with AIDS.

This deserves attention, believe me.

And so it goes.
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Elizabeth Taylor: R.I.P

ABC News has confirmed that Elizabeth Taylor died this morning of congestive heart failure. She was 79.
Taylor's son, Michael Wilding, released this statement: "We will always be inspired by her enduring contribution to our world."

Very sad, but inevitable given her many hospitalizations of late. Many may remember her best as an early HIV/AIDS activist, but those of us old enough to remember her films will be grateful at least they will be around for a long time.

Michael Callen: The Healing Power of Love

Michael Callen was, for a very long time, the longest living person with HIV/AIDS.  The Safe Sex program was his brain child, and along with this song, co-written with Marsha Melamet, together co-wrote "Love Don't Need a Reason" with Peter Allen. This is before the virus ravaged his body.

His book "Surviving AIDS" was great help to me during my time as "buddy" and "caregiver" as I was burning out quickly.  Michael was crazy, wild, outspoken, insatiable, and a genius. I still miss him terribly.

And so it goes.
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World AIDS Day - Remember Them

It's Not Over Yet.  Remember That, Too.

More later.
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Remembering a Friend

Twenty five years ago a talented violinist (first chair AZ Symphony 2 years in a row), talk-like-a-duck, and dear friend died of AIDS. We were friends for 10 years when he died, but he disappeared after his diagnosis in 1983.  This was Reagan's time and the "A" word was not spoken until his friend Rock Hudson finally admitted his illness.

Evan wasn't yet 31 when he passed away. I can only imagine what he endured as he approached the end. There was stigma, and AZT (foul as it was) was not yet available. I am grateful that his family didn't abandon him.

I became a primary care-giver a year later and spent almost a year in nightmarish red tape tinged with hate and disgust for the one I was caring for. I learned much that I wish I didn't have to learn - about the stupidity, arrogance, and fear of medical establishment, hospital staff and the public in general - but used the knowledge I had been given to break through some of the madness and see that PWAs (people with AIDS, as they were known then) were treated with dignity and respect. My patient friend and I missed the first Quilt display in 1987 because he was preparing for his death.

I miss Evan's humor, silliness, duck talk (which he used frequently to break the tension during difficult rehearsals) and his love of musical history. Most of all, I miss his warm hugs and big smiles. I lost many pictures in the settlement 4 years ago, but I may still find a few images of Evan in the slides I have yet to view.

Above is Evan's panel in the Names Project AIDS Memorial Quilt.(Click to embiggen, it's a duck walking on the strings of a violin) I was working with set-up crew laying out the pathways to every collection of panels in the display.  Photo was taken the next day when I was part of emotional support crew stationed at the intersection of 4 panel groups.

Measuring pathways for panel group placement, DC 1989.

Seeing Evan's panel for the first time just blew me away. Here I was supposedly offering emotional support to others and I was crying like a baby.  Fortunately, others came to offer comfort to me, as well.  It was a draining weekend and I don't remember much other than the time with the quilt and visitors.

On that Sunday evening in October of 89, after the panels had been folded and stored, I walked the ellipse where only those black nylon walkways remained as witness to what had happened there for 3 days. The air was crisp and the wind seemed to bring the voices of those who had visited and of those who had passed, back to life. I sat on the ground and had another good cry - it was the only way to release the stress and move on.

Evan, you live still in my heart, and I am sure in the hearts of many others who love you. And so, as long as we live, I believe you have life.

I love you, my friend.
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