A Very Jimagery Christmas

After today's tragic events in Newton, CT, many of us are shocked, stunned and maybe falling just a little short on our belief or trust in humanity. Very understandable. In today's real-time, worldwide, sensationalistic atmosphere, we're bombarded by images, videos, stories, tweets, status updates, and text messages of horrific events, heartbreaking news, or immense loss.

Before we'd really heard what was happening in Connecticut this morning, I got a blip from my news station as I was having my morning coffee. The event was still taking place, no facts other than a shooting was in progress at an elementary school. And I, like many others, contributed to that sensationalistic, real-time, always-connected world we're in by posting this Facebook status update between 8:30 and 9 a.m. PST:

"A shooter at an elementary school in Connecticut? What is happening in this world?"

We didn't know anything. Didn't know if there were casualties. Fatalities. Who the gun man (or men) was/were. There was just a shooting that we all felt was going to turn into another tragic event. Honestly, after the fast police action and controlled-panic of the shopper's at Clackamas Town Center the other day, my hopes were that there would be few, or no, injuries.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. And a nation is left grieving. President Obama - bless him - showed such compassion, sympathy, and humanity while speaking on this event, I wept a little as I watched him pause, stutter, and wipe tears from his own eyes. I felt - no, I know - he left the podium so quickly because he couldn't hold it in any longer. Such strength and empathy in our leader. So very grateful for that.

But, as the day progressed, many many many friends of mine made me realize something important:

Bridgett:
Such a heavy heart over this senseless tragedy. Will definitely be hugging my family tighter than usual. But, at the same time, I won't give up on humanity. There's a lot of good going on in the world but we as a society, especially the news, tend to focus on the negative. The good doesn't get reported often enough. Spread the good, comfort the injured and keep the bad in perspective.

I don't want to sound heartless as this is horrible! I just mean that I've heard over and over today "what's this world coming to" and I don't think that's the right place to go. I can list things right off the top of my head that have been wonderful happenings this week but don't properly get celebrated because they don't get the attention. A 2yr old got an 'all clear' on her brain scan MRI this week after a round of chemo, a friend raising TONS of money for fighting AIDS, another friend getting a clean breast biopsy, I helped 2 complete strangers just Wednesday. Just a couple things I've been thankful for this week.

Jon, posted this link as a reminder to all of us:
Pictures That Will Restore Your Faith In Humanity

Lisa, commenting on the tragedy in relationship to my AIDS/LifeCycle event:
I believe one of the best things we can ever do is create a situation where people can do good. Most people are truly good, but don't have a public forum for their good deeds. The amazing ride that you're doing and the fundraising end of it is so inspiring partially because of the ride itself but even more so because it gives so many people a chance to do something wonderful for somebody else. I know I'm not the only one who gets goosebumps every time you announce a new sponsor or goal met.

In return, I wanted to share a story that happened a long time ago. But which, today's events, brought to the forefront of my mind. Well, the tragedy in Connecticut and watching the Christmas episode of Glee worked together to remind me of an experience I had on Christmas Eve, 1986, when I was 16 years old....

I grew up in the Detroit area and my parents worked for the auto industry. My stepdad made bumpers. My mom, transmissions. The 70's were booming for the industry which is how we wound up in Michigan. But then there was the oil crisis, the Iran hostage situation, the competition with Asian automakers and their compact cars. At times, the 80's weren't very fruitful in Detroit. There were strikes and picket lines. Periods of unemployment. Government "cheese" (and trust me, that deserves quotes because cheese was a minor ingredient!). But my parents, well they did their best. They gave up a lot. Sometimes that even meant giving up time with us kids. There were babysitters. And a trip to the store meant a lot of couponing, a lot of belt tightening, but always a belief that the kids came first.

They divorced when I was 13 or so. Struggles continued. There were good times and bad. But nothing could have prepared us for my junior year of high school - I was 15, my mom was on her own, and we were poor. Dirt poor. We weren't struggling anymore. We were barely surviving.

Of course, we DID still have a roof over our heads
so the lawn chair was inside.

I have rarely shared this story. Not because it's embarrassing or because I feel I'll be judged. I just don't share it because I felt anyone I told it to who knows me would have trouble believing it was actually true. But it is. I guess I also did it to protect the image of our family. Few people were allowed a view into our lives during that time - there was Larry and Jenny and Wendy and Janet (R.I.P. dear friend). Kerry and Pete and Cassandra. We lived in a house without a stove. Or hot water. A garbage bag was our shower curtain - and obviously our showers were cold. A big treat was when we had the time to heat up a huge pot of water on the hot-plate and bathe in a few inches of warm water. We had one bed between the three of us (my mom, my sister and myself). My sister and I let my mom have the bed. while April and I took turns sleeping on a folding patio chaise - you know, one of those ones with little plastic/rubber bands up and down the length? Yeah - we alternated nights. On our off nights, we slept on the floor. Our flooring was a plywood sub-floor. Our bedding was an old sleeping bag.

Ah, but this is a Christmas story. And that's just the setup. See, we really didn't have any money. Definitely none for Christmas gifts. Or ornaments. Or a tree. But then a little miracle happened.

I mentioned earlier that the kids always came first. And my mom was not going to let us go without a tree unless she had tried everything. I don't know what she may or may not have done before that Christmas Eve but that night was the last chance so she put us in the car and we drove to get a tree.

It was dark. Late. Maybe 7 or 8 p.m. on Christmas Eve. There was a person in town we didn't know, but they had a double-sized lot and during the fall they had a pumpkin patch on their extra land. And during Christmas they sold Christmas trees. We pulled up into their driveway. Mom asked us to wait in the car and she got out and went up to their door.

Knock knock.

I remember watching her through the window of the car but I don't know what she said to them. Or how she did it. But those kind strangers put on some snow boots, a heavy winter coat and gloves, stopped by their shed to get some rope, then went over to the fenced in tree lot, and carried a six foot tall Douglas fir to our car and strapped it on top.

On the way home, we kids were excited. But there was one more surprise stop to make. Mom stopped off to spend a very precious few dollars on some supplies. You see, we didn't have any ornaments either. So she picked up a string of lights. Some construction paper. And some popcorn.



That evening, we sat together as a family around the kerosene heater and turned the radio onto a station playing Christmas songs. We cut our own ornaments and hung them with sewing thread. We popped some corn on the hot-plate, threaded it onto a string, then draped it along each bough of that tree. We made a colorful chain of garland out of construction paper. And I think we had something to top the tree off with. Don't remember what. Maybe an old star from Christmas's past. Or maybe we made a new one from some yellow construction paper. Then we sat back. Plugged in the one little string of lights on it. Had a little hot cocoa and sat in front of our beautiful tree before we went to sleep for the night.

The next morning, there were two or three very inexpensive presents for each of us under the tree. I was working at McDonald's so had purchased a gift for both my mom & my sis. My mom, as all mom's do, had squirreled away a little loose change to make sure there were gifts for us all. My sister probably collected some bottles and turned them in for their deposits and bought us a little something too.

It was simple. It was loving. It was real. And it was nothing but goodness and blessings. To this day, it was the best Christmas I've ever had. So all these years later, let me use this public forum, this connected world, this real-time technology to say thank you kind strangers for helping out my family oh so many years ago. You turned a day that was destined to be very sad and awfully grey into one of the most wonderful memories I've carried throughout my entire life.


Friends, during this tragedy let us remember the good is always there - we're surrounded by it everyday even if we don't always hear about it. But that doesn't mean we can't...

See it.
Feel it.
Be it.

J-

If you'd like to, share some of the good, give a few smiles, and bestow one of those random acts of kindness on another by becoming a sponsor for my AIDS/LifeCycle ride and supporting the clients at SF AIDS Foundation and the LA Gay & Lesbian Center. Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Feliz Navidad. Blessings to all.

Purpose. Perseverance. Progress. And A Parcel.

My posts on Facebook have provided updates on my training and fundraising progress but I haven't written much about it here. Guess it's time for a major update, eh?

Yes, Jonathan, I look serious - I took
this pic while on the bike at about mile 10!

Recently, it's been a challenge to find time to train. Many reasons for that. First there were all those crazy medical tests. But that's all in the past now and shouldn't affect my training anymore. Then it was too cool in the morning and I don't have cold-weather gear. So I opted for training on a stationary bike at the gym. Finally, my work schedule isn't a traditional 9-to-5 - it's more like 6-11am, 1:30-3:15pm, 7:08-9:36pm. That's one day. Sometimes difficult to find time for a ride in between all that. But I've made it work when I could.

Believe it or not, even a few months into this I'm still learning new things, some of which I hadn't thought about when I first started training. Like going to the gym to log miles when the weather doesn't cooperate or when my schedule doesn't allow time until after dark. A few weeks ago it hit me that I could pedal at the gym and, although not as demanding or enjoyable as hopping on the Cannondale & riding through Red Rock, it does help to maintain my endurance and can be just as picturesque - in a different way, of course - usually when a hottie gets on the bike ten feet away... talk about an incentive to show off a bit and pedal faster, hah!




There are some drawbacks to logging miles at the gym but none of them will keep me from continuing to do it. My first visit, I did learn the bikes only allow you to log a one-hour workout with a five-minute cool down. That night (wearing my official ALC shirt above!), I logged 15.67 miles in the 65 minutes the LifeFitness cycle's computer allowed. Not bad. Didn't feel anything like riding up and down hills on the road even if the screen on the bike computer kept telling me I was climbing a hill. The other thing I learned is an hour on one of those stationary bike seats is much less comfortable than an hour in the saddle on my road bike. Quite surprising actually considering how small and firm the road bike seat is compared to the large and cushy seat on the gym bike. But I persevered. Even went back for another round.

Doubling down at the gym 'cuz 65 minutes isn't enough!

The next time I visited the gym, I chose a more difficult level (7/10 instead of 3/10). Still didn't feel as challenging as the road bike. But it must have made some difference because my pace was a little slower. Only reached 14.93 miles in 65 minutes. So I reset the machine and kept going - not for much longer, just 22 minutes. Added another 4.77 miles to the workout and got to finish the episode of Tosh.0 I was watching while pedaling (yes, one benefit of the gym is being able to catch up on your television shows while working out!). So I can do this and continue to since it's a decent way to workaround any of those challenges I might have in finding time in the day to ride or getting a workout in when the weather says it ain't happening outside.

And I've hit some milestones in my training too... finally passed 400 miles! Seems like so much. Then, I think that I still have to work my way up to 545 in seven days. Oy! I WILL get there though! Just gotta stay focused on the training and pedal pedal pedal!

Speaking of milestones, I hit another one in my fundraising too. I think I've mentioned before that there's been a major slowdown in contributions to my ride - most likely due to the fact that I've hit up everyone I know like seventeen times! And many of my friends and family have contributed. Quite a few of them even came back to provide a second donation! But I'm still making progress. I've been holding Pampered Chef fundraisers and donating the proceeds to the ride - I think my total donated through those is close to $400. And, although I'm fallen in rank to #12, I'm still very pleased to be in the Top 20 Fundraisers! But the milestone...I passed the $6,000 mark just a few days ago! As of today, I think I'm at $6,060 and some loose change. Feeling so good about that. Even more, my team is closing in on a major milestone in fundraising as well... there are thirteen of us and our combined total so far is over $19,400! And we're just starting! A few of the guys haven't even registered yet or are just getting started on their fundraising. Man, feels so good to see us working together to hit these goals! Our team, Manning Up Allstars, is currently ranked sixth in Top Team Fundraisers and four of our team members are in the Top 100 Fundraisers!

All in all, progress I'm pretty damn happy with! We still have over six months until we set off from San Francisco but I'll hit that 545 miles and that $22K mark in fundraising - I know I will because you all have proven you're with me on this! All of that support is what's going to get me there.

Speaking of support - and the "parcel" reference in this blog's title. I've said before that reaching out beyond my own circle of family and friends is going to be key to reaching my final fundraising goal. Some of that I can use your help with - think about sharing my fundraising link on Facebook and reach out to your community to support the cause. Or have a chat with your employer about holding a fundraiser in your office or securing a matching contribution from them. I know it seems like a lot  and totally understand if you're just not up for it. Trust me, I've definitely had to go outside my comfort zone to continue raising funds and it's made me very nervous and even felt a bit cheesy at times. I mean, I'm not a salesman as anyone who's attended one of my Pampered Chef shows has seen. But I've done it because it's going to benefit the ride. But I've gone even further than that. I've hit up complete strangers to support the cause. Not only complete strangers, but celebrities. One thing I've realized, it's hard to get a response from a celebrity. But just the other day, I did.

Do you know who Matthew Mitcham is? He's an Australian guy. You may have heard his name over the summer... from the Olympics in London. Diver. Gold Medalist. And, most recently, author. I've never met him. Although, I wouldn't say no to a meet-and-greet, heh! Handsome guy. Seems very down-to-earth in interviews. And from what I've read about his book, very candid and honest. I've also learned he's very generous. On Tuesday, Matthew autographed a copy of his book Twists and Turns and shipped it out to me from Sydney (it's not available here in the U.S. yet). Oh, he did more than autograph it. He put a personal note to one of my sponsors - thanking the recipient for supporting AIDS/LifeCycle. I haven't received it yet - that's the parcel I'm waiting for - and don't know exactly what the message says but I'm checking the mail daily. I wasn't going to mention it until I had the book in hand but I'm a little excited about it! I plan on placing the book in our online auction in the hopes that someone might be interested in not only reading his story, but in having a memento that recognizes their generous support in the fight against HIV & AIDS. Kinda cool, eh? I'm gonna have to send that guy a thank you card.

Four Terms for Sex Slang I Learned As An HIV Educator

Yeah, looking back over the past few entries - or maybe the past few dozen - I've realized it's been all work, no play. Although I've done my best to keep them inspirational, they've been somewhat somber and melancholy with their underlying tones of fear, loss, illness and heartache. So today, in an effort to provide "more funny AIDS" which Jon DeLeon has occasionally urged me to do, I give you this installment of the jimagery blog formatted in an homage to Cracked.com.

Now, before I dive in (no pun intended), I must tell you that 1) these are true stories, 2) there's definitely some NSFW material here (although the pics are PG-13 at worst) and 3) you may learn things that you never wanted to learn. If you're conservative, sheltered, missionary-positioned, or weak-stomached, you may want to hit the back button immediately because I was exposed to these terms over the course of ten years and you're going to get it all in about three minutes. But, if you know what "backdoor" means then you can probably keep reading. These are things which, throughout my many years as an HIV educator, I learned from teenagers. There I was, talking to them about sex and, low and behold, there they were teaching me a thing or two about sex in the 20th century. Like this moment when I was in front of a bunch of high school students and was taught the meaning of....

Jimmy Hat

This is the "Jimmy" I know.
And he aint' wearing no hat!

My days of educating others about HIV took me to the four corners of the world. Well, maybe not the four corners but it took me places. Most of which the world has probably never heard about... like Kansas City Missouri, Louisville Kentucky, Baker Oregon and Storrs Connecticut.

One of the more scenic cities on my travel itinerary was a little place called Cleveland, Ohio. Ah, yes, Cleveland. Where crime rates are high and venereal disease is a common Christmas gift. The public schools there were shit in the 90's. I don't know what they're like now but, back in those days, I would walk into a classroom and paint would be peeling off the walls. The radiators (yes, they had friggin' radiators in their classrooms) would be doing one of two things: 1) not working at all or 2) pouring out enough steam to turn the pages of their textbooks into recyclable mulch. But the city is home to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame which makes it a fine place to visit - for about two hours. And only if you're a Bruce Springsteen fan.

So there I was in Cleveland, rolling a condom down a banana (it was listed in my job description - I had to do it... I swear!) and one of the students said, "I ain't never seen a Jimmy Hat used like that!"

Um, what?

I think part of my confusion came from the fact that growing up I was known as "Jimmy." So when she said "Jimmy Hat," my first thought was, "I'm not wearing a hat." I didn't start doing that until well into my thirties when the hair loss became almost embarrassing. I mean, I was rolling a condom onto a not-so-phallic looking banana. So I had no idea where "Jimmy" or "Hat" figured into this equation.

Yes, this is how we demonstrated condom use.

But, being the best educator I could be, I tried to reach out and learn the slang of the youth of the day. So I was honest and said, "I've never heard that before - what's a 'Jimmy Hat'."

To my surprise (and chagrin), a "Jimmy Hat" was slang for a condom. And, in my very fast moving, problem-solving, deductive mind, I quickly realized that if that term was slang for a condom then "Jimmy" was slang for... yeah. Penis. C*ck. Baloney Pony. Hot Beef. Schlong.

My childhood nickname meant I was a D*ck. Well played, ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends. Very well played, indeed.

Teabagging

Do you know this one? It's gone mainstream, so there's a good chance that you do. But back in the day, I didn't hear it until I was working on a video for high school students in Connecticut. It was 1996 or 1997 or 1998. Don't remember exactly but I do remember that's the first time I heard this particular term.

Now, to be honest, there were no students present during the filming of this educational video so, although I learned this as an HIV Educator, I didn't learn it from a teen. During production, a black curtain was draped behind us as we sat in a very uncomfortable chair for two or three hours. An interviewer asked us some very personal questions, many of which were of a sexual nature, and we were supposed to respond with answers that were "suitable for a teenage audience."

Probably the least sexual thing you could imagine, right?

Okay, I can do that... talk about sex without getting graphic... and get paid for it!

Oh, but I digress - I didn't learn the term during my interview. No, it was during another of the interviewee's sessions. I was sitting on the sidelines. He mentioned "teabagging." I had to ask him afterward what it meant. But I didn't catch him right away as I was up on camera next. So I had to wait 'til later that night when an opportunity presented itself.

Not everyone gets it
right the first time.

Sorry folks. Told you this was NSFW. Probably NSFF (Not Safe For Friends) either. But what the hell... put it out there and see what happens, right?

So there I was in the same little bed & breakfast (the Tolland Inn, if you're curious) as the other participants when one of them invites me to their room for a glass of wine and a soak in the hot tub. My room was nice but it had no hot tub. And I was curious as to what "teabagging" meant. Again, I was enlightened as he explained that it meant "Dipping your testicles into the open mouth of another person. Kind of like dipping a tea bag in and out of a cup of water." (Okay, that's not the exact verbiage he used... I just stole that from Urban Dictionary).

Soaking, bubbling, pruning, and pouring plenty of wine, my companion suddenly asked if I would be willing to "teabag" him. What the what?!?!!?

First, that is NOT a seductive move. Mostly because you can't assume everyone knows what that term means. Especially those like me who, at the time (c'mon, I was 25!) were very sexually naive. Second, that's what you consider foreplay? There are many better options available - can we try one of those other things first then move onto this wackiness you've named after a bag of dried herbs?

To say the least, the teabagging incident left both of us wanting. Me, wanting to go directly back to my room. Him, wanting to go shrivel up into nothingness like his own little teabags under the covers on his bed.

(And, by the way, his bit was cut from the final edit. You can watch the final video here.)

Rainbow (or Roman) Showers

I have to be honest. I'm embarrassed to even share this one. To this day, I can't believe I even know what it means - and it's one of those things that will haunt you forever. And (hopefully) you'll never be asked to participate in. Thankfully, I've never been asked. But I did learn what it meant...

So maybe you've heard the phrase "Golden Showers" before. It's crept it's way into Hollywood movies and Comedy Central skits. But I'm going to go on a limb and say you've probably never heard of a Rainbow Shower - probably can't even come close to guessing what it is.

Ahhhhh, rainbows... the stuff of unicorns and pots of gold and leprechauns and Dorothy and Oz. Sounds so... magical.

Oh, but don't be fooled my friends. This has nothing to do with those fantasies, although it does have a fantasy element. I first heard of this one when I was in California - a group of students I was speaking to in San Diego I think. Although it would have been much more expected from a San Francisco or New York audience. As described in the Urban Dictionary, a "Rainbow Shower" is sexual vomit play. I'm thinking Rainbow may have the chosen descriptor because vomit can be so colorful after a night of drinking orange wine coolers and kiwi-strawberry Mad Dog 20/20?!?! This fetish may also be referred to as a "Roman Shower." The Roman element I guess dates back to the days of emperors like Caligula. There were Corinthian columns and Dionysus and feasts and orgies and vomitoriums so you could purge then binge again. They must have rolled all that stuff into one and got the vomit mixed up with the feasts and orgies at some point. I won't go into any more detail but let's just say that thank all of those gods that you've never experienced it... because, like  me, you'd probably benefit most from avoiding it altogether. Especially the Double Rainbow.


Tossing Salad

Who would've thought lettuce could be sexual?!??

Now, what good is a little blurb on the extreme's of sexual acts as learned through conversations with high-school students than the oh-so-yummy sounding salad tossing?

This took place in Lousville, Kentucky. I was giving my regular spiel. You can get herpes and syphillis and gonorrhea and chlamyidia and HIV through these unsafe sexual practices. Then, a young woman - it was a twelfth grade classroom so I hope she was 18 - raises her hand to ask a question.

"Can you get any of those things from having your salad tossed?"

The entire room, aside from the teacher and myself, burst out laughing.

Okay, we old folks were missing something. And, by old, I mean I was 27 at the time. But we were about to learn because....

...I did what I always did at the time. I asked. "What is that?"

One of the guys in the front row, still laughing his ass off, speaks up and says, "It's eating her butt!"

And he was right. Supposedly, the term was coined from prisoners who practiced this act and used Ranch salad dressing to cover the taste of....

Well, I think you understand.

Okay. I'd learned enough now. Bill Cosby hosted that show, "Kids Say The Darndest Things." I bet he never interviewed these students though.

HIV education was my contribution to the greater good - my way of saving the world as a young, naive twenty-something guy - but it was also teaching me more than I'd ever wanted to know about sex. Even more than that best-seller Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask. No, these things would be better suited for a more contemporary title Everything You Could Never Imagine About Sex And Wouldn't Even Think To Ask. Maybe I've become more adventurous in the bedroom since then. Or maybe not. If the latter, it's probably because of the things like this that those oh-so-enlightened students passed on to me kept me from ever venturing into unknown territories when doing the horizontal mambo.

Now, I think I'm going to Rainbow Shower all over myself.

(I warned you not to read it.)

Remembering...

December 1, 2012
World AIDS Day

Seems like my blog entries have been somewhat somber lately and I keep trying to remember to do what my friend Jon once told me and write "more funny AIDS.". Well folks, you're gonna have to wait for "more funny" - after collecting the pics and reading through the materials I've selected for this blog, funny doesn't really describe my mood today.

Portland, 1996: I know Robbie and Linda and I are all
still around. Barry passed in 1998. Grant 2004. Don't know
about the others David, Tony and... what is his name, RC?
I hope they're out somewhere in the world smiling today.

But that doesn't mean I'm not smiling. That's the great thing about memories. They make you smile. Even the saddest ones can bring a smile to your face - after time has passed, of course. Because they're connected to the others; the not-sad ones. The ones of sharing a bucket of popcorn at the theater, of running into the surf and both falling flat on your face, of taking that long drive to the mountains and getting there right before the sun sets, of accidentally killing your friend's fish while house-sitting (ok, that wasn't funny at the time but it kind of is now). They're the memories of smiles and touch and laughter and quiet and meals and movies and arguing and protecting and adventures and laziness.


And today I'm full of memories that are keeping the smile on my face. Sure, there may be a tinge of sadness in my heart but it's overpowered by the warm comfort of all the moments captured... like a big hug in my head. Pretty crowded in there today actually. And there's a lot of laughter. And brightness. And hand holding. And tree climbing. And... life.

In addition to the memories I hold in my mind, there are the memories that have been documented. Some of them I've shared on this blog or in my old blog. Others, like cards and letters and photos, I've kept in a little box of treasures here in the house. And there are even more that belong not only to me but to the community. A way for us to share our memories of those we've loved and lost.

For me, some of those memories are kept in three books which are now housed in the archives at Cascade AIDS Project. Well, actually only two of the books hold memories for me. The first one, started in 1988, was full before I walked through the doors of CAP in 1991. My friend Judith, who still works at CAP, has done a wonderful job in historical archiving - some of it, including pages from these three books, are even online here.


Each day when I walked into work, the first thing I passed was the table holding the Remembrance Book... always a lit candle next to it. I  don't know how many names I wrote in these books or what types of stories or goodbyes I shared. Reading through the archives though, I see names of friends who are no longer with us... like Steve & Bob & Paul & JR & Barry... just names and dates or maybe little memorials written by other friends of mine like Mimi & Gay & Fred & Tom. There are obituaries pasted onto the pages. There are photos. There are notes from mothers and lovers and daughters and cousins. There are entries from some, like Mica, remembering those he lost during his tenure at CAP. Followed by entries for Mica, from friends who said goodbye to him on March 30, 1995. For me, those books hold memories of times shared, friends I still see, volunteers I said goodbye to many years ago, colleagues whose candles burnt out long before they should have. Three little books. Hold so much of our lives. So many smiles. And personalities. And love.

And love... sometimes love is little like those books. And sometimes it's huge. Larger than life. Sometimes it weighs over fifty tons, contains 48,000 panels, almost 100,000 names, is considered the largest piece of community folk art in the world and was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. That's big love... that's the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt.

Some of the panels are people you've never met, but
you've heard about. Like these in memory
of Ryan White and Pedro Zamora.

Have you ever seen the quilt? Or a piece of it? It's moving. It's intense. It's happy. And sad. And colorful and bright and has more love on it than you'd ever think possible in the world. Then you remember, it's just a very small part of all the love that exists. It has handwriting and signatures and photos and scraps of fabric, and little pieces of peoples lives... things like this that I found listed on Wikipedia:

• Fabrics, e.g. lace, suede, leather, mink, taffeta, also Bubble Wrap and other kinds of plastic and even metal.
• Decorative items like pearls, quartz crystals, rhinestones, sequins, feathers, buttons.
• Clothing, e.g. jeans, T-shirts, gloves, boots, hats, uniforms, jackets, flip-flops.
• Items of a personal nature, such as human hair, cremation ashes, wedding rings, merit badges and other awards, car keys.
• Unusual items, e.g. stuffed animals, records, jockstraps, condoms, and bowling balls.

Yeah, there's a bowling bowl on the quilt. Or maybe more than one... I mean, Wikipedia has it listed as plural. I've never had the experience of seeing it in its entirety. I've seen panels. Panels that hung behind me during presentations I gave when I was an HIV educator. I've seen panels being sewn together by one very dedicated woman at the NAMES Project offices. My friend Demetri worked for the NAMES Project - and he took me back there to the sewing room. I don't remember the whole story. But I think she started the second or third year of the quilt... and sewed and sewed and sewed all those panels together for years as they were mailed in from all over the world. Talk about a labor of love. Then there are the panels with the names of my friends. Like Steve and Bob... on the same panel with my friend Jill's son, Ken. Steve and Bob - yeah, it was their fish that died on my watch. They were in Jamaica. I was house sitting. And I felt so terrible when I woke one morning and that poor thing was floating at the top of the tank. Almost pulled a trick like the Brady kids would have - almost went to buy a look-alike fish and think they'd never notice. But I didn't. I flushed him. And told the guys the truth. They were very forgiving ;)

The light blue panel, bottom center, the one that says
"I've Gone Over The Rainbow" - that's Steve & Bob & Ken.

Steve and Bob.... they had been partners for years. Then they both passed away within months of each other. But they left me with a lot of wonderful memories - and an awesome Eggplant Parmagiana recipe! Ken, I never met. But I became very close friends with his mom, Jill. She and I spoke to hundreds of people about how HIV had affected our lives. She was so "June Cleaver" - always impeccably dressed, with a small string of pearls or gold chain adorning her neck. Classy woman who held her sons hand 'til the end. Then stitched together this panel. Probably wearing an A-line skirt, cashmere sweater, and small diamond stud earrings while she sewed.

Today I'm not writing in a Remembrance Book. Not going through my box of cards and photos and letters. Not sewing a quilt panel. And definitely not wearing an A-line skirt with a string of pearls around my neck. But I am recognizing World AIDS Day - by writing this blog. Lighting a candle. Taking my bike out for a training ride. But most of all I'm remembering. Remembering those I've shared so many experiences with. The ones who passed away. The ones who didn't. The ones who fought the fight. The ones who still fight the fight. The ones who will fight the fight. The ones we lost to AIDS. The ones with HIV. And the ones without.

You see, each day for me is World AIDS Day. But, after reading this, I'm sure you've seen a theme. It's about remembering and it's about love. So today, I remember the most important thing in my life. The ones I love. The ones like you. And you. And you.

The Archives - The Truth

Reading this one reminded me of youth & angst. If I'd been Morrissey, I could have recorded an album from some of these blog entries.

But I wasn't Morrissey. I was just a guy. Same guy I am now. Just a little younger. With a soul patch. Um, and maybe not as good a driver. A little less versed in the game called life. Definitely not as good a cook.


I've said it once. Twice. All week. Tomorrow is World AIDS Day. And this is my last post this week from the archives (I'm going to write something "original" tomorrow - I'm not always lazy!). On that day thirteen years ago, I composed this little diddy on my blog:


December 1, 1999 - The Truth

The truth is, I sometimes don't know what to do.

The truth is, I don't always have such a bright outlook on life.

The truth is, I wish I never had to deal with HIV.

The truth is, I miss all of my friends who have passed.

The truth is, I don't have all the answers.

The truth is, I hate taking my medications.

The truth is, I feel very alone.

The truth is, I sometimes want to give up.

The truth is, I often get scared.

The truth is, I occasionally want it to end so I can stop waiting.

The real truth is, these other truths are what make life such a grand experience.

The truth is, 20 years or 100....I'll enjoy every step.



The truth is, I'm thankful to be here, if only for this moment.

The truth is, I'll never quit living.

Today is World AIDS Day. Remember the truth about your life and others. Share the truth with those you know. Listen to the truth from those who trust.

Live the truth today.

Tomorrow.

Always.

j-

The Archives - Release

Peering into the past... through my first webcam!

I know many of these archive entries aren't much for anyone to read. But have you ever gone back through an old journal you once kept? Looked back at your younger self (the photos are always fun!). How you viewed the world back then. The lessons you obviously hadn't yet learned. The reactions you had to different situations.


How you've grown.

And how some things are pretty much the same?

Yeah, that's kind of what this entry was like for me. I have a hell of a lot of great days. Almost always optimistic. But once in awhile... I'm reminded I'm human... maybe when I'm at home alone... after a tear-jerker of a movie... or when that certain song comes on the radio...

10/18/99: release

With these new HIV treatments available, many people with the virus are staying healthier and living longer. Due to this, the death rate has taken a nose dive. Still, every once in a while we get a reality check. I had mine today. Someone I know was admitted into the hospital for HIV-related problems. It's been a long time since I've had to deal with it. I've forgotten how much it affects me.

Anyone who has had a sick friend, family member, or co-worker really sick or in the hospital understands the anxiety that accompanies the event. We buy cards, send flowers, and maybe even sneak a Big-Mac in for them. Every time we stop by to visit we force a bright smile onto our faces. We may try to help them laugh. We may even cry with them. If we're spiritual, we might pray for their recovery.

J.D. (Jim's Dog): 8/99 - 4/11 - RIP buddy of mine.

We worry about...
...the things we meant to say but never got around to.
...not being able to do the things we had planned with them.
...losing someone close to us; someone we love.
...being left alone.


Beyond the concern, we may also be faced with memories of other losses we have known. Other visits to the hospital. Memories of pain long buried that are now dredged up at a time we feel least capable of handling them. We do our best to focus on the situation at hand yet when we are in bed late at night, these memories visit us...no matter how tightly we shut our eyes.

During times like these I also begin to look at my own personal health. Especially when I know that my friend in the hospital is dealing with HIV-related problems. I begin to lose a bit of the courage I've worked so hard to build. I begin to question the efficacy of the medications I take. I wonder if I've made the right choices in my own healthcare or if I'm doing enough to take care of myself. I once again start to ask myself, "When is it going to happen to me?" A question that will forever follow me.

Strange how looking back can remind you to look ahead.

What I do next is remember what a wonderful friend of mine, Jill, told me as her son was dying.

"You're going to be one of the lucky ones. You will be around for the cure."

Then I hold on to those words...and maybe cry.





Release the worry.
Release the fear.
Release the pain.

j-

In keeping with my World AIDS Day promise....

Ah, those memories of youth.

I promised a post a day from my old blog until World AIDS Day. And I won't renege on that promise.

Unlike the past few, today I'm going abstract. Not a story of my life or of a friend I lost. Just something I wrote in 1997. It's a poem. Does it have anything to do with HIV? Maybe. But, like all "art" I'll leave that to the audience. (By the way, I'm not saying it's good or even relevant - was just easy to copy & paste, hah!)


Risk

An elusive glance,
from my eyes to yours,
grabs at the center
of your distant soul.

Wet breath, thick,
passing from one mouth
to another, ignites a flame
in the crux of your heart.

A finger, trailing skin
warm from passions motions,
brings your mind closer
to understanding dependence.

While the scent of man's flesh
pressed against your darkest corners,
decidedly tells your being
you are no longer alone.

Whispers, stares, embraces
shared in heated exchange
are no antidote or cure
for blood gone bad.

A life spent searching
can find its power only once.
Shamefully admitted though,
it's too often passed over.

In order to live intensely
one must risk one's self;
but allowing rationality to win
you lose eternity in the battle.
It's your mind. Your soul.
You decide. You choose.
But never forget your answer
for I'll never ask again.

_______________________________________

Ahhhh, what the hell... I'll give you two...

Litter

Center of ones soul
Tainted by the life it chose.
Inner turmoil never controlled
Or overcome.
Believing there was no power
Strong enough to win.
A life made filthy by its travels
Just as the sole of a shoe
Is dirtied with grease and shit.
Stepping blindly
Along a trail full of answers
But obscured by questions.
Litter blowing on the sidewalk
Of ones mind
While empty trash cans rot
On each corner.
It is now too late to collect the pieces
Of a mind in which little was learnt
Because little was sought.
Never knowing there were options,
Only giving in
To a falsely determined fate.

The Archives - World AIDS Day 2000

Yep, more World AIDS Day blog entries from a little while back: December 2, 2000 World AIDS Day was yesterday. I completely forgot about it. Weird. But new news on the HIV front. I have been to the doctor recently...for the first time in nearly a year. Usually I have some slight anxiety about these visits to the doc, just because there's always this fear of getting bad news. This time the anxiety was much stronger for two reasons. Of course the first reason was because I hadn't been in a year. All that time for something to go wrong without my knowing of it. But the second reason - and this is the BIG one - was because I stopped taking HIV meds in April. Yep, I did. That's quite a risky thing, I know. But from what I've read (and I did a lot of research before I did this), many people and go on these medication breaks without developing resistance to the medications, as long as they stop all meds completely. Now I don't really recommend this, but for me it seemed like the right choice at the time. Really added to the worry though when I finally made it back to see a doctor. Of course, being off meds, I couldn't expect my viral load or t-cell count to stay where they were. I'd actually planned for the worst news. Turned out I didn't have a great deal to worry about. Over six months off meds and my t-cells hardly fell at all. They're still in the 'normal' percentage range and that number only dropped by 2 percent. Viral load was up as expected, but it was nowhere near as high as I thought it may be. It came in at around 15K. Still very manageable in my mind. The doc said she wanted to monitor things a little more closely now...maybe every two months...but there was no need for me to go back on meds. Yah! Sometimes I feel very lucky. j-

The Archives - 2000 Miracles

With World AIDS Day this Saturday, I've decided to go through my old blog and pull some of the entries about HIV from then and post them here each day. AIDS/LifeCycle has a goal to reach $1.5 million by Saturday and maybe some of that will come through new sponsors for my ride.

So in honor of this year's World AIDS Day and representing just a portion of the 31 years HIV & AIDS have affected our lives, here are more reasons I ride. Reasons I composed before the name AIDS/LifeCycle existed. Things have changed in the past dozen years - my attitude, my outlook, and even the lines on my face! For you regular blog readers, you'll get a peek into how my writing has evolved over the years too, hah!



December 31, 1999

See that date there? Yep, my thirties
were still on the horizon ;)

2000 Miracles
Today is a special day. Well, of course it is...it's the last day of a year, the final hours of a century, and the ending moment of a millennium. For many people today signifies a time for reflection, a few moments for remembering the past, and the last chance to make right the wrongs of the year. Tomorrow brings thoughts of change, fresh seedlings of hope, strong waves of motivation and new found freedoms. It means all of these things for me too...but it has another, more significant meaning.

I heard the words on November 27, 1991. I found out I was HIV-positive. 1991...we'd known AIDS for about 11 years, it was still a gay man's disease, Presidents still didn't speak about it, and families still hid it. 1991...AZT was the only hope and people were still dying by the thousands. 1991...I was 21 years old.

Three things went through my head when I was given my test results: "I'm too young for this," "I can never have children now," and "I'm not going to see the year 2000." I don't know why those are the first things I thought, they just popped into my head. Now here I am eight years later and I'm proving at least one of those thoughts wrong.

J.D. just a month after he joined my family!
(Also, look at the time....I used to be a nightowl!)

Tonight I'm going to celebrate life...not yours, not that of my friends, not the life of great people in history or of the human race. I'm going to celebrate my life. There I go being selfish again but damn I feel I deserve it. For over eight years I've lived with the thought of death looming over my head and for once I feel I can let go of it. Tonight is the night. I'm going to celebrate the moments I laughed, the moments I cried, the moments I was bored senseless and the moments I was a complete asshole. I'll look back on everything I've done with no regrets, knowing I've done the best I could with the tools I've been given...and sometimes even created my own tools. When the clock strikes midnight, I will kiss every person that has entered my life, whether they're still in my life or not.

Tomorrow won't be just another day. It is the day I thought I'd never see. My tomorrow will be the first tomorrow I've looked at without fear. For me, the year 2000 is a miracle...and only the first of many more to come.

j-