Bottled Up

After a week in San Francisco filled with AIDS/LifeCycle events, fundraising and training, I'm now on a plane flying home bringing more stories about this amazing journey. But, with less than four months until the ride, there are moments I feel I'm running out of time to share all the HIV related stories I've experienced in my life.... stories which have driven me to commit to participating in a seven day, 545 mile bicycle ride. Yes... there are that many stories. New stories like those from this weekend and old stories from the twenty-one years I've been involved in the HIV community. Both my own stories and those of others. Some of these motivate me to pedal harder. Inspire me to climb the most intimidating hill. Or push me to train just a mile further than I've ridden before.

Then there are the stories that help me remember there's more to this than the ride. These don't come from people like me who can cycle almost the entire length of a state. And they don't come from people without HIV who still provide me inspiration through the way they've overcome other challenges, like the entry I wrote about my friend Holly. No, these are the stories about the people who benefit from the money we raise. The experiences that remind me to push myself to be a top fundraiser. That make it a little easier to ask my friends, family and colleagues to donate to the cause. These stories are from the other side of the coin.... and, in this story, that coin is a nickel.

Five cents. Not much to most of us. Hell, just the other day I left eighteen cents in the "Leave A Penny" jar at a corner store because I was wearing my cycling gear and had nowhere to put loose change. Many of us don't pay much attention to nickels. Even while looking for an image of the coin to include in this blog I realized I didn't even know the changes the five-cent piece has gone through in recent years (yeah, they've redesigned it a couple times... I've never looked at one long enough for that to even click in my head).

The second smallest denomination of currency we carry in the U.S. Nearly meaningless, right? Throw it in a change jar. Suck one up while vacuuming the sofa. Pass right by one laying on the sidewalk. Not even worth the effort to bend over and pick it up. Unless you're a person who's been on HIV related disability for years. Someone who spent his life serving others as a waiter and bartender. Whose past gratuity-based income means his disability payment provides him barely enough to scrape by these days. So he spends late evenings looking for nickels to supplement the paltry check he receives each month. Well, not actual nickels... there aren't that many just dropped on the sidewalk. He gets his nickels by returning refundable bottles for recycling.

While I was visiting Portland last fall, I met up with a friend I've known since I was twenty. A guy I used to go to the underage nightclubs with when I first moved to Portland in 1991. One of the first friends I made in that town. Oh, and let me tell you, he was a handsome, energetic, motivated, articulate, intelligent, thoughtful and caring young man... albeit a little lost like many of us were at that age. A few years after we first met, he called me to tell me he had seroconverted... had tested positive for HIV. He didn't know many who were positive and I was the person he trusted most to tell first, to get information & advice and to cry a little on my shoulder. Shortly after that, he joined the HIV-Positive Speakers Bureau I managed at Cascade AIDS Project and started on the journey of community education similar to the one I had started years prior. He was still young and handsome and energetic and articulate which all came together to make him an excellent speaker... really engaging the audience and, with his age, quickly relating to high-school and college students.

Back to my recent visit....

Although he's been on disability for a few years now and is living on a fixed, limited income, he was making dinner for me when I arrived at his apartment. Still the gracious host, he wouldn't think of asking me to bring anything or contribute in any way. It had been a decade since I'd seen him and he's still as handsome and sweet as ever, even at 39 years old and dealing with many health challenges. He even remembered I was focusing on a vegetarian diet and cooked up a wonderful meal of pasta in a savory red sauce with fresh veggies. After we ate and spent a couple hours catching up, we looked through his small collection of DVDs and put a movie on.

As it was getting late, I began preparing to leave. He insisted on walking me down to my car. But had to grab a couple things because he had something to do. That's when I found out he spends his nights walking through town (he doesn't have a car... or even a bicycle) collecting bottles to turn in for cash. Oregon has a five-cent deposit on most bottles but many residents just throw them out or put them in recycling bins instead of going through the hassle of taking them back to the store. He was grabbing a large garbage bag he uses to carry the bottles and a pair of old sneakers & gloves because he literally dives into dumpsters for these bottles.

My heart went out to him. He's this attractive, healthy-looking, neatly dressed man. Just a couple years younger than me. Someone you'd see every day and look at twice. Not because he looked homeless, or pitiful or scary or like he just climbed out of a dumpster. But only to catch his beautiful smile again. And here he was preparing to dig through garbage to find bottles to supplement his income.

So what did I do? I joined him.

Yep. It was 1 a.m. on a weeknight. I had a conference call for work in just a few hours. But how can you not help a friend in need. Well, not really in need because he does this by himself every single night. I just had to help him though. Couldn't stand the thought of driving off as he walked into the night looking for, what to him, is this little treasure hidden within what most men threw out as trash.

We spent about two hours searching and digging and collecting. I learned a lot in that time. First lesson was to identify which bottles were refundable and which ones weren't. He's quite the expert and I caught on quickly (Water & non-carbonated juice bottles are worthless. Orangina bottles... paydirt!). Then there was the art of picking up trash bags to feel if there were any bottles or cans inside and, if so, neatly opening them to pull out the bottles then place them back in the trash can as if we'd never been there. There were little lessons like keeping an eye out for police cars in order to avoid having to answer to our suspicious looking activity (we did not trespass, steal, or vandalize anything). After close to an hour, I not only became pretty successful in the bottle hunt but it started to really feel like a treasure hunt. I would get excited if I found a big stash of bottles that wasn't bagged with a bunch of stinky garbage. Sometimes quietly exclaiming, "Come here... look what I found!" And it wasn't just bottles. There were other necessities he picked up along the way. A kitchen knife in good condition. Barely used plastic storage containers. And even light bulbs (he would examine the filaments to confirm they were still good). Things he needed and used... and by finding them on these excursions, he avoided having to purchase them with his limited funds. The one necessity he doesn't dumpster dive for is food though. As a person with HIV, health is a priority and questionable food shouldn't be an option.

At the end of the night, we arrived back at his place a little dirty and very tired. And I was also ringless (my ring had slipped off in a dumpster and I couldn't find it again). But we also felt satisfied because when he counted the bottles he said we had a very good haul. Six dollars and thirty-five cents. That was because it was recycling night and we found many returnables in the bins.

$6.35
127 Bottles & Cans
That's 3,810 bottles and cans a month.
And $190.50 monthly to help supplement his income.
Money that helps him survive.

The biggest lesson I learned that night was that even with the many programs for people on HIV disability - food stamps, housing assistance, AIDS Drug Assistance Program, bus passes - there's still a gap that needs to be filled. My long time friend spends two hours every night in the cover of darkness collecting his "nickels" to get $2,300 a year to help close that gap. Today, thinking about that, I'm reminded of another reason I've committed to this ride and to raising as much money as I possibly can. For every $100 I raise for the clients at San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the LA Gay & Lesbian Center, we help people like my friend stay at home for fifteen nights instead of going out to find bottles to exchange for nickels. I know for me, a hundred bucks seems like a lot of money.

But it's not nearly as much as that six bucks in bottles is to him.

You see, I'm not riding because I have HIV. I am truly riding for a cause. An important and personal one for me even if it's not about "my" story. Please click the link below and think about joining my team of sponsors so my friends don't need to dig through dumpsters anymore. Or, if you've already donated, please think about a second contribution... maybe just a small portion of your tax refund... to help those who truly benefit from your generosity. $100 can be split up over ten months.... because ten bucks a month - or even just a one-time $10 donation - is only two lattes for us but it's four hours of work and two days worth of bottles for my friend.

Donate Here. Thank You.