It rained most of the day, with showers on and off later. The temperature was close to 60 at seven P.M., at least ten degrees above the average mid-day high for December 1.
Joe had bar and bat mitzvah tutoring in Clarksburg, an hour drive south of here, so I was on my own. I walked a half mile to the PRT, the driverless rail system that connects the far flung parts of campus and downtown, and got off at the station near the center of WVU's Downtown campus.
When I arrived at The Mountainlair, I spotted Ed Cole, from the Division of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, dressed in his customary khakis, navy blue blazer and bow tie. There were people from Caritas House, the local charity group for People With AIDS (PWAs). They apparently sponsored the event. A group of students joined us, possibly all from one class, and mostly women. Some of the people from Caritas House introduced themselves, including Justin Siko, the assistant executive director. I said "We've met before" and we left it at that. We had a confrontation a few years ago about a donation Joe and I made jointly, where a thank you note was sent only to Joe at Tree of Life, even though the check was from our joint account, signed by me, and had our home address on it. At the time I was livid that we were not acknowledged as a couple, and I let Mr. Siko know that. I don't think he wishes to speak to me again. We have not since then been invited to their events.
Sharon Wood, who is the executive director, spoke at the beginning of the march and led the group. We were given candles and a red cup to hold them.
I spoke mostly to a photographer from the Dominion-Post who went along with the group. We were the two who somehow didn't fit in with the others.
Just as we got to Jamison's there was a downpour. Luckily they have an awning, so we were dry. Ms. Wood spoke about the work of Caritas House, how "AIDS doesn't discriminate by race, gender or sexuality." She told us how she became involved when her godson was hospitalized with an AIDS-related illness many years ago.
Then she asked if anyone else had something to share. I was the only one who did. This is more or less what I said, as it wasn't written down.
"I guess I'm the outsider here. I'm a sixty-six year old gay man. In the early days of the AIDS epidemic, in the eighties and nineties, most of the people who died from AIDS were gay men, many of them close friends of mine. The gay newspaper in Los Angeles, where I lived at the time, used to publish three, four and five pages of obituaries of men, mostly young, who had died of AIDS in the previous week. I especially want to remember my close friends, Fred Shuldiner, Art Horowitz, Rue Starr, Hal Wakker, Avram Chill, and David Fyffe, who died just a year ago, although he was diagnosed in 1985. I remember many more people whose lives touched mine, and I feel bad that after twenty-five or thirty years, I have forgotten some of their names." Sharon Wood said "But they still live on in your heart." True.
No one else said anything. Justin Siko read a good, non-sectarian prayer off his phone and I said "Amen." The photographer looked at me, shocked and speechless. No one else said anything, so Sharon Wood invited us all in to Jamison's to socialize. I returned my cup and candle to one of the Caritas House people, and headed home.
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| At The Mountainlair |
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| At The Mountainlair |
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| Sharon Wood addressing the crowd on High St., in front of Jamison's |
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