Gay Pride Month

 Having been raised in Kansas I have ideas about politics that I should probably keep to myself, but you know me!  I will first go on record as saying, I was raised by a Republican registered voter mother and as such, I respected her opinion.  As I grew and matured, I realized that I was probably going to choose a different party.  And I did indeed choose differently when I became active in Colorado.

I became involved in the gay rights movement, which did not gel well with my mommy, but that was the route I choose and if I had it to do it all over again I would still have chosen that road.  Now my mother had a very good friend and co-worker who just happened to be gay.  Gibby was also a friend of mine.  We worked together and he helped me with the kids Christmas one year.  Good friends are hard to find and even harder to keep.

Sadly this all transpired at the time that a disease that was called HIV was rearing it's ugly head out in California.  It was the "gay disease" because it seemed to only affect gay people.  It was the "hot potato" of the political world at that time.  No one wanted to address it.  It was as if the politicains completely ignored it, "it" would go away.  Sadly it did not.

Randy Shultz wrote a book and named it for what it was "And the Band Played on".  It entailed the inaction that occured during that period.  The government continued to ignore the "gay disease".  It was indeed a phenomena in that only gay people got it and only gay people died from it.  Since it only affected that one segment of society it was not important.  But then it began to bleed over into the WASP community and that was a wake up call.

I do not have time nor inclination to go into all the  ramifications of the governments inaction at that period in time.  This is about my friend Gibby and how his life meant something to my mother and to me.  Gibby was not infected at the time I left Hutchinson.  Dates mean nothing to me in my memories of him.  I only know that I was living in Colorado when I got the call that Gib had moved to California and  he had tested postitive for the virus.  He wanted to come "home" for Christmas.  Mother was concerned about "catching it".  So to make a long story short, Gibby died in California and is buried some where that was not disclosed because of the "shame that surrounded his death."  His family was afraid that someone might "dig him up" and "desecrate his body."  And the Band Played on.

But as with most of life, time moved on.  The disease was named  Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome and later and finally settled on as HIV (human immunodeficiency virus).  It is no longer the dark secret that it was in the beginning.  Since the death of my sweet Gibby, I have been very active in the movement.  Some one in California started a memorial quilt with panels for each death designed and executed by someone who loved that person.   This is a link to that project.

I have designed and executed a miniature to be held here locally and shown the month of December at out local library.  We usually have a ceremony of commemeration on December 1, which is designated World AIDS Day.   Covid put a stop to that!   I have once more digressed so let me get back on track.

This is gay pride month.  So my hat is off to Gibby and all the pioneers before him who stood up and said "Yes I am gay!  And I am proud!  It is who I am!"

I am proud to say that I helped bring gay pride to Pueblo.  It is what it is and I have plagues in my china cabinet that proves I am more than just a clanging cymbal.

Smile down, Gibby, because I will never forget you and your unconditional love to me and my family!  And thank you to the doctors, nurses, health care providers and all the people who jumped into the fray to restore sanity to a period that had none at the time.

Peace!

Rest in Peace Larry Kramer

I started a big long blog that entailed the history of how and why I became involved in the Gay Rights movement back in the early 80's , but that is irrelevant.  What is relevant is the death of Larry Kramer.  If you do not know who he is, you need to Google him.  He was a writer, a playwright, a military man.  He tried to commit suicide at one point.  But most importantly, he was the man who sounded the alarm for the disease that was killing gay men.  It was a phenomenal event back then.  No one knew why gay men were dying, but they were and in greater numbers. 

In 1981 he published an article calling attention to this in a gay periodical.  Two years later he published again, this time calling it "1,112 and Counting".  It was about this time that I may have shaken myself out of the lethargic cocoon within which I was wrapped.  I had a good friend back home named Gilbert who fell victim to the disease about that time.  He was the first friend I lost, but he would not be the last.

I began to follow the news and Larry Kramer.  It was staggering statistics for sure.  And it just kept going.  Does any one remember when Colorado passed Amendment 2?  We worked very hard to get that overturned.  We were fighting for Gay Rights and we were fighting the AIDS epidemic.  I think Larry Kramer and I were fighting the same battles, but on different ends of the country, but for the same reasons.

I wish I could have met him.  Some of my best friends are in the gay community and I have always championed their cause.  I see I am rambling, so let me just sum this up and get back to life.

Larry Kramer was a giant among men and his legacy will live forever.  Our world is a better place for him having passed through it.  In 2002, he said: "I put the truth in writing.  That's what I do: I have told the fucking truth to everyone I have ever met."

And that, my friends is why Larry Kramer holds a special place in my heart.

Lawrence David Kramer, writer and activist, born 25 June, 1935: died 27 May 2020

World AIDS Day & the Quilt

I do not know when Pueblo began the commemoration of World AIDS Day.  I do know that at that commemoration there were only 2 people.  They went to the Arts Center and put black ribbons on several pictures.  Then that evening the 2 of them held a candle light vigil.  She was the sister of a young man who had passed from AIDS and he was a victim.  I never knew his name, but I still see her today.  It was through her that the Pueblo AIDS Memorial Quilt was conceived.

The next year there were 5 of us.  3 of us were parents of a gay child.  The third year there were 2  mothers and my daughter Debbie with her biker husband Hammer.  For some reason we thought we had to stay until midnight all the years before.  That year, Hammer told us we were nuts because it was cold enough to freeze the b@^^s off a brass monkey and there was no one that knew we were there. He was right!

From those humble beginnings many things transpired.  Someone started the Names Project AIDS Memorial Quilt early on.  It lives in California.  It is constructed of individual panels measuring 3' x 6', which is the size of a regular grave.  I conceived the idea for a smaller version of this constructed of 1' x 2' panels.  The Pueblo AIDS Memorial Quilt was dedicated at the Sangre de Cristo Arts Center on December 1, 1997.  For several years, that was it's venue until we started having World AIDS Day here.  The library is now it's home through December.  It is still stored in my basement.

The big quilt in California is now too big to be displayed any where.  The last showing of it was on the mall in Washington D.C.

NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt

The NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt, often abbreviated to AIDS Memorial Quilt or AIDS Quilt, is an enormous memorial to celebrate the lives of people who have died of AIDS-related causes. Weighing an estimated 54 tons, it is the largest piece of community folk art in the world as of 2016. Wikipedia

Tomorrow at 2:00 we will gather to recognize World AIDS Day.  Part of that celebration will be to recognize the loss of one of our leaders, John A. Tenorio.  He passed one year ago the day after Thanksgiving.  John was my friend.  I was the mother he lost and he was the brother I lost.  Our friendship had gotten off to a rocky start many years before, but we had both come to realize that this was a friendship blessed by God and misunderstood by man.

Sunday we will add his panel to the quilt.  It is simple.  The fabric is one of the plaid shirts he always wore.  The Christmas card he sent out the first year he was a grandfather is in the pocket.  There is a picture of him and his brother, Len in the city hall parking lot.  It does not tell a story.  It is not a work of art.  But it does hold a lot of tear drops, because I miss that boy more than words can say.  It is just something that will mark the life and death of John A. Tenorio.

May he rest in peace knowing he leaves behind a legacy that will never be forgotten and an empty place in our hearts that will never be filled.

A day late, but relative nonetheless.

I was about 20 years late getting into the fight for Gay Rights, but when I got on board I gave it my all.  Stonewall was nothing to me in 1969.  I did not know any gay people because there were not any in my world of western Kansas at that time.  Little did I know that my 4 year old son would open my eyes and make me see the injustice of discrimination.  Little did I know that less than 20 years later I would be not only waving the flag, but it would be one I stitched with care.  I knew nothing about PFLAG in 1969, but by 1973 I was a whole lot wiser.  By then I was single and working at the Red Rooster Restaurant with a little guy named Gibby.  Gib was a very good friend of my mother, so of course he was a friend of mine.  Gib was gay.

I had never to my knowledge ever even seen a gay person, but now I was friends with one.  And it was nice to have a male friend that I could go dancing with, or hang out with and not have to worry about a romantic involvement.  Then I started my journey  that has led me to where I am today.  I moved to Colorado in 1977 leaving Gib and my mother and siblings behind.  Soon after the "gay disease" reared it's ugly head.  In June of 1981 the CDC  published a paper about a strange disease that was affecting gay men.  And thus began the AIDS epidemic.  I am not here to give you a history lesson, only to tell you why I am where and who I am today.

Gibby was one of the first to die.  He is buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in central Kansas.  He is only one of many that received the same treatment.  Fear held us in it's paralyzing grip.  There was talk at one point of isolating the "victims".  The CDC scrambled to set up guidelines and finally succeeded in calming the fears, approving new meds and I am happy to say that now it is not even

mentioned as AIDS, but is HIV and it is a manageable condition.  I speak of HIV only because it led me to the gay rights movement.  

In 1983 I married Kenneth and for the next 8 years I lived a fairly mundane existence.  This all ended when the religious right groups headquartered in Colorado Springs put forth Amendment #2 for the Colorado Constitution that basically stated that gays and homosexuals were to be denied civil rights protection.  This was on the ballot for the November 3, 1992 election. It was known as the "Hate State Amendment 2". 

It was worded in such a way that it was confusing to say the least and it passed.  Barely, but it did pass and the gay community was devastated.  At that time there was a catering business on Elizabeth and for some reason we congregated there.  We were all so disappointed because what this bill did was basically declare open season on gays.  The place was filled to overflowing and that night "Pueblo After 2"  was born.  We knew that as gay and straight we had to band together.  As a straight person I could advocate for my gay friends.  Warren, David, Joe, Carolyn, and the list goes on.  Along with  Nancy and Jalia, PFLAG was born in Pueblo.  Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays.  It was the local chapter of a national group.  

Events and times become confused in my little mind and I think I should have kept a journal.  But I did not.  I did what needed done with the help of my colleagues. Westboro never stood a chance with us.  Pueblo After 2 morphed in Southern Colorado Equality Alliance.  Southern Colorado AIDS Project was borne of the need to take care of our afflicted children.  

At some point in time I conceived the Pueblo AIDS Memorial Quilt which is hung at the Rawlings Library the end of  November through most of December.  World AIDS day is observed on the 4th floor every December 1 and I am guest of honor.  

We have come a long way, but there is still work to do.  I was given a lot of awards over the years, but none as prestigious as the mother who thanked me recently for giving her son the strength to acknowledge who he is! That is called "coming out" in case you wondered.

Kinda' makes it all worth it.

Time flies when your heart is breaking.

I do not know when I met John Tenorio.  I woke up this morning trying to figure it out.  It was after he left Albertson's,  I think and about the time he was coming out of a long term relationship.  He was in need of a non judgmental friend and Lord only knows just how non judgmental I am!  At the time I was doing the second Tuesday of the month luncheons and John had 2 good legs.  I was dating a little (6'2") biker fellow who owned a home just a couple blocks from the place we held our luncheons.  That worked well.  I could feed the clients and then take him leftovers.  Men that tall need lots of food.

To say that John and I were instant friends would be very misleading.  I had been doing this for years and all at once I had this snot nosed kid telling me what he wanted for lunch.  Since I had to lug everything into the building and up the elevator and down the hall, I thought he was just pretty demanding.  I explained to him that I was old and that crap got heavy, so he better just get his fanny there early enough to help with the carrying.  He agreed.  And he actually helped.

John was a born leader and I was a born doer.  World AIDS day is December 1 and by the time John showed up the AIDS Quilt was conceived and becoming part of the service.  Sometimes we were at  PCC,  the University, or the Arts Center.  He found sponsors and pulled Pueblo Community Health Center into the mix.  He found sponsors to furnish refreshments.  My job was taking care of the quilt and I was good with that.  He finally met with the powers that be at Rawlings Library  and found a permanent home for our December 1 service and the quilt now hangs on the 4th floor for part of November and most of December.

Days flow into years and years fade away.  John and I had our share of disagreements and life went on at my house.  My friend passed away  on July 13, 2012 and I started volunteering at Hospice.  It was in that time period that John got a sore on his foot that would not heal.  He went into Parkview Hospital and after a few weeks it became apparent that he would lose his leg.  Now what do you say to someone who is in that position?  I had no words, but thankfully John did.

" It is no big deal.  They cut it off right here and then build me another one that snaps right on, good as new."

Somehow I could not picture this, but John said it and that is how it went.  Off with the old leg and on with the new.  Little rehab and next thing I knew I was sewing a sock for an artifical leg.  One sock.  Stretchy with skulls or something.  John never missed a beat.  He never used crutches, because they slowed him down.  He became an activist for everything he believed in from Native Americans,  HIV/AIDS, Health care for all, Food Labeling, Black Hills Energy, Migrant Workers and Lord only knows what else.

We talked every day.  His kids got older and graduated and began their lives.   John became a grandfather and was so proud of his little family.  He talked to brother Len in New Zealand every day.  Every day.  Sometimes he and I would be on the phone and he would say, "Oh, there is Len!" and we immediately broke our connection.  They talked for hours!

I became known as John's other mother.  I was good with that.  My kids were good with that.  I knew John was tired a lot.  I knew he was due for a kidney transplant on December 17.  He just didn't tell me or anyone else how bad it was.  I am sure he knew he was rolling loaded dice, he just did not want to worry us.

And so this morning, I look back down the road I walked with John Tenorio and see all the signs that were there.  He was my friend.  He was my confidante.  He could have been my son and he was on some level.  I miss him.  I miss him every day.  I am going to spend today letting go as I turn this page of my life and close the chapter on John.

I know some of you will read this and want to reach out and comfort me.  I would ask that you not do that at this time.  Today is my day of letting go and it is just between John and I.  Thank you.

Corky was a dancing fool!

I woke up this morning with Corky on my mind.  First let me go on record as saying it is always both a surprise and a pleasure to actually wake up.  It becomes more of a surprise as each year goes by.  But this morning I was thinking about Corky.  Must have dreamt about him, because he was very vivid.  Corky dates back to when I was 16 or 17 and still in high school.  I do not remember how I met him because I lived in Nickerson and he lived in Hutchinson which was 11 miles away and I had no car.  Now I can set here and try to guess how he came into my life or I can tell you about him. 

Corky was the coolest guy in the world.  He came with lots of friends and while he did not have a car, his friends did.  And he loved to dance.  And I loved to dance.  At that time there was a dance every Saturday night at the convention hall.  If you know your history, you have surely heard of Dick Clark and his "American Bandstand". (Now my facts and names and such may not be completely correct, but this is what I seem to recall.)  It was held back east in some big city and it was all the rage.  It was on television and all that.  So ours was held at the convention hall with some disc Jockey and to save the floor we all checked our shoes at the door and it was called a "sock hop".

Corky was always my dance partner and we were good.  One of his tricks was to face me and at the precise moment  he would cross his arms,  I would squat, he would step over me and some how I ended up behind him and we never missed a beat.  Another was to put our backs together and link elbows and he would lean forward which flipped me across his back and I lit on my feet facing him.  We did the stroll, and all kinds of things he learned on watching bandstand.  Several times we ended up winning for the evening.  It meant nothing, just that we were the winners.

Corky and I were a "couple".  Back then being a couple meant absolutely nothing, just that we danced together.  Then we decided to take it to the next level.  He borrowed his brothers car, we skipped school and went to Wichita to Joyland Amusement Park.  Being a school day, the place was deserted with us and a few other kids skipping school being the only ones there.  We rode the roller coaster.  We rode the Ferris wheel.  We walked in the hot sun.  We made a recording in a booth.  Then we rode the roller coaster and the Ferris wheel again.  The only thing left was the Roundup.  That is the round thing where you are strapped in standing up, spun around, and tilted on its side and that is when I threw up!  Luckily the operator saw what was happening and leveled the ride out quickly so the only one was lucky enough to have my vomit hit them in the face was me.  Corky was very caring and compassionate to me and decided maybe it was because we had not eaten, so he bought me a hot dog and we left Joyland, never to return.

Of course he got in trouble for skipping school as did I.  When the whole truth about our day came out, as the truth always will, we were both grounded.  Since we had no real emotional connection, and mileage being a detriment, we drifted apart.  We both found new friends.  Our dancing days were over, but I still have not forgotten Corky, or Joyland, or the sock hop at Convention Hall.

Hutchinson, Kansas is actually a very small town at heart.  Idle curiosity made me wonder what had become of Corky.  And Jimmy and other friends.  Most of my friends had married and led rather mundane lives, but some of my dance partners had remained single.  I had married and moved away, but moved back in 1967 with a string of children in tow.  I left Hutchinson again 10 years later for the fertile fields of Colorado and have been here ever since.

In 1980 the AIDS epidemic began.  It was known in the early years as "The Gay disease."  My very dear friend, Gibby, was one of the first to fall.  I took up the banner and became involved in the fight very early in the game.  I was to learn many years later that both Corky and Jimmy had been lost to that disease.  Such a waste of life.  The hate back then was palpable.  There was talk of "rounding up all the queers and locking them up" so they could not spread the disease.  What a lack of compassion! It took people like Rock Hudson dying and Elizabeth Taylor standing up in his memory to finally wake up our country. 

When December 1 was declared a day of remembrance for all the artists and actors lost to the disease, it was a giant step forward.  The first one held in Pueblo was attended by one man with AIDS and a woman who had lost her brother to AIDS.  It was at the Arts Center.  The next year I was there with 2 friends.  Now it is a very open celebration and is held at Rawlings Library on December 1.  Our little Pueblo AIDS Memorial Quilt hangs in the 4th floor for the month of December.  Quite a step from huddling in the shadows to this.  The quilt has been featured in the newspaper with full page coverage 2 times.  

I never made a panel for Corky or Jimmy.  I made one for Gibby.  

And there you have the workings of my mind this morning.  Damn!  I sure hope it rains soon.

A sharecropper Christmas or Gibby is gone, but the memories are not.

There were eight of us living in a lathe and plaster house where the snow blew in sometimes because there were chinks in the plaster, but Christmas was always Christmas.  It was the one holiday a year that really mattered in that 2 bedroom house at 709 Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas.  There were 3 things that would happen that day without fail.  Santa Clause would have stopped by in the middle of the night, Dad would stay sober and  there would be a meal on the table.  The wheels of progress had started probably the Christmas before when Mother started counting her pennies and making the list of what each one of us would receive. She always had a stub of a pencil and a list in her pocket. I never really got a good look at that list, but I am sure my name had appeared there some where.   All year she worked towards that one goal.  Mother's do that, or at least mine did.
School got out for vacation about a week before Christmas.  Every classroom had a Christmas tree. and every tree had tinsel.  The last day before vacation started was the day to "take down the tree."  The tree then went home with who ever did not have a tree up yet.  We counted on getting one.  There were 6 of us little urchins and the teachers would decide.  We always got one!  I remember the year I was the lucky recipient.  Can you imagine my pride at dragging that tree home the whole mile to our house.  I was so damn proud I thought I would pop!  And the teacher had left all the tinsel on it.  Of course by the time I got it home the tinsel had thinned quite a bit on the side that was dragging in the dirt.  I thought I would pop my buttons when momma propped that tree up and Christmas was on the countdown!
We did not have stockings, but rather we wrote our name on a piece of paper and placed it where we wanted Santa to put our gifts.  Funny, I don't really remember ever giving my mother a gift in all those growing up years.  I made her cards, but never a physical gift.  And then there was the time I babysat and earned some money and went to Doc Wards store and got her a stainless steel mixing bowl.  I did that because I had broken her glass one and felt really bad about that.  Well, when I grew up and moved away I would send her stuff, but that really doesn't count.
As the years went by and mother picked up more house cleaning jobs the piles grew bigger at Christmas.  The first one I remember was a coloring book, colors, a red rubber ball, and an orange.  The last Christmas I remember Santa Clause was when my brother woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me he had helped mom and dad put out the gifts and there was no Santa Clause.  That year I got one of those tin doll houses that clipped together.  You know, the miniature ones with mother, father, sister and brother and all the tiny furniture and you could buy more!  And always there was new underwear and socks!  Wise mother to make the piles bigger with stuff we had to have anyway!
And then it was my turn to be Santa.  In all fairness, I do not remember much about those years.  The kids dad and I divorced when the kids were small and he was good at bringing presents, but not much for the child support.  His reasoning was that I had the kids and all the pleasure they brought so why should he have to pay me?  He was the one with not kids to keep him company and in my warped mind I saw the reasoning that made him tick!
I was always a procrastinator and sometimes Christmas got there before I realized that as Santa I had work to do!  One year my friend Gibby was kind enough to help with the last minute shopping the day before Christmas Eve mind you!  We rushed from store to store and finally had the trunk full.  The next evening I put the kids to bed and Gib came and we began to assemble the gifts, one of which was a tin miniature doll house for Debbie.  Luckily (?) he had brought a bottle of wine and luckier still that I had lots of band aids because those damn little tabs were very sharp and the wine was very strong!  Well, and there may have been a second bottle!  I woke up on the floor and no sign of Gib.
(An aside here, I must tell you about Gib.  He was a friend of my mothers and they worked at the Red Rooster together.  Gib was gay and one of the first to die in the AIDS epidemic, when it was an epidemic. He died in California and we never knew where he was buried.  I do know when I conceived the Pueblo AIDS Memorial Quilt  he was foremost in my mind and the first panel made was for my sweet Gibbie.)
Many years have passed and many Christmas's have come and gone to bring me to this Christmas.  I do not have a tree.  I gave all my lights and decorations to my son.  I do not buy gifts.  I do not fight the crowds.  I will spend Christmas Eve in church and Christmas Day I will attend church and come home.  I am not bah humbug at Christmas, I just prefer to live with my memories.  The best part of memories is that they can be altered to fit the occasion and this year I shall have beautiful memories of wonderful children and bountiful love and I wish you all the same!

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!  

If I could shut off my memory....

Morning seems to be when I remember best.  I woke up this morning  back in the late 60's.  I was working as a waitress in a restaurant in Hutchinson.  It was my first job in the real world with my kids dependent on me since I was newly seperated and had filed for divorce.  Back in those days child support was optional and welfare required that you not work to qualify for help from the state.  So there I was.  I had never waited tables as a means of support.  Many years before I had been a cook/waitress/dishwasher at a place out on 4th street called the Tiny Tear.  Course most of my life at that time was spent in an alcohol induced fog, so I remembered little of that experience.  But now it was   ten years later.

The people who ran this resturaunt took pity on me and were very patient and they needed help on the night shift really bad.  The logistics of the job are not important, just the people.  There were the two "real waitresses" and a young girl who was attending college and supporting her self.  There was also a cook,  cook's helper and a dishwasher.  We were closed one day a week and that was the only day off that we had.  To make a long story short, the cook and the young college girl fell in love.  Oh, it was so romantic.  They billed and cooed and carried on something fierce.  She, however, appeared a lot more enthralled with the relationship than he did.  The strange part was, they never dated.  Never.

 He would leave work on Sunday when we closed and not appear again until Tuesday afternoon.  Where did he go?  The young college girl did not know.  Nor did anyone else.  She cried and he gave her a ring.  But still they never dated.  He swore he loved her with his whole heart, and she believed him.  We all did.  And like all things in life and like mother always taught me, "It all comes out in the wash!"  He was going to Wichita.  Why?  Why not?

The young college girl gave up and returned the ring.  She moved on.  He quit cooking there, the two "real waitresses" moved to Texas, and I took a job cooking at the Red Carpet Resturant.  I saw the cook from time to time, but that friendship petered out as any friendship that has secrets will.

Many years later found me in Pueblo, Colorado.  A lot of water ran under this bridge and I finally found my niche in the construction industry.  The AIDS epidemic reared it's ugly head.  It was sad back then.  People were dying at an alarming rate.  I divorced again, got my degree in accounting and all my little acolades because I was so damn smart.  Then I married for the last time.  For whatever reason I began volunteering with the AIDS group in town and it was tied in tightly with the Gay community.  I have watched the face of AIDS and sexual orientation change from complete denial to total acceptance in my life time and I am proud to say I was in the forefront of most all of it!  but I digress.

I remained friends with only a few people back home, but one of them was a friend of the cook.  Remember him?  He was the one who ran away to Wichita every chance he got.  The one who left the college girl crying.  He became quite successful in his chosen profession, but he never married.  One day his friend called me and said "Do you remember 'the cook' "?  Sure I did.  She then told me he was rushed to the hospital and they had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was in a coma.  The next day he was dead.

Weeks would pass before the autopsy returned the results of his demise.  AIDS.  Not really AIDS, but disease associated with the syndrome.  At that time it was still a "gay disease."  At that time it was selective.  It was a scourge.  You were not even tested if you were not gay, and he was not gay!  Oh, wait a minute.  All the trips to Wichita began to creep in on the corners of my mind.  Could he have been leading a secret life?  Was that what that was all about?  The young college girl had become a quite successful architect and married very well, but he had not.  He lived all alone in a very nice house and had friends, but no romantic interests.  Or  so we thought.  It all comes out in the wash.

And why do I have this on my mind this morning?  I think it is because of the hatred that is being spewed through this election.  One governor struck down a bill passed by his state governing body that legalized discrimination.  Another is proposing legislation that legalizes it!  Contenders for the position of president are calling to criminalize birth control, homosexuallity, gay marriage, and about anything that has been passed in the last 20 years.  I may have to run for office myself.

My platform would be love and tolerance.  No discrimination.  A living wage and a chicken in every pot.  The only two things I would outlaw would be homelessness and poverty.  Everyone that wanted an education would get it and a few that did not want it would get it anyway.  Drugs would be illegal.  Gangs would be illegal.  Killing people because you are a jerk and can, would be illegal.  You get the picture?  Kind of a pollyanna world, so to speak.

But in the meantime, I send good thoughts to "the cook" and everyone who hides in the shadows because of fear or shame or whatever reason.  If the college student/architect or the "two real waitresses" or someone who knows them happens to read this, I wish you would contact me.  Just go google loumercer3, or Lou Mercer.  Or leave a comment below.  I would love to hear from anyone that knew me back then.

In the meantime remember:

 BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED!

The ghosts of the past are alive and well!

I woke up at 4:15 this morning and was very surprised that I had a guy on my mind from my distant past.  Now I mean my way back there distant past.  My first boyfriend.  I was 17 years old and I thought the sun rose and set in that boy.  He took me to Joyland in Wichita one sunny afternoon.  We rode all the rides and when we got on the Roundup, my stomach had it's limit.  His name was Corky and he was so sweet and concerned about my welfare.  Throwing up on the Roundup was the high point of the day and we left soon after that.  We continued to for a while and then sort of drifted apart.  It was never a big romance, just a very comfortable relationship with some one with whom I could share my  hopes and dreams.

Years passed and I married and had a family.  I ended up in Garden City, Kansas.  When that marriage went south, I returned to Hutchinson.  There I met the second man in my life who would offer me comfort in a storm and ask nothing in return.  His name was Gib.  We never really dated so much as sort of hung out together.  He was a friend of my mom's.  He was also a cook and I was a waitress until I became a cook also.  He helped shop for Christmas Santa Claus gifts and helped put the things together on Christmas Eve.  He was engaged to a girl named Cheri, but though they lived together, they never married.  I never understood their relationship.  He and I were friends, but he and Cheri had something, and yet nothing.

The one thing both these guys and I had in common was that the relationships were purely platonic.  I never expected more and they never asked for more.  I can search the world over and never find 2 men that made such an impact on my life!  Ah, but hindsight is always clearer then foresight, isn't it?

Years passed and the AIDS epidemic reared it's ugly head.  Gib moved to California.  He died there.   I was in Pueblo by then.  Mother called and said Gib wanted to get together over Thanksgiving that year, but she was afraid.  I told her I could  and would love to come and see Gib.  I was not afraid.  I just wanted to see my old friend.  Plans were made, but he did not make it.  I know there was no funeral and he is in an unmarked grave.  I still miss him.  The very first panel on my AIDS Memorial Quilt is for Gilbert Fields.

I learned later that Corky had also passed.  He was also a statistic in the early stages of the epidemic.  Jimmy came later.  And Mark.  And Mike.  And a list that goes on and on and on.  I have always had a rapport with the gay community, even before I knew there was a gay community!  They have been my friends when I had no friends.  They held me up when I could have sunk beneath the waves.

I have no idea why these two guys are on my mind today, but there they are.  I just wanted to share with you, my readers, a small glimpse into my past so you can maybe understand why I am who I am today and why I do the things I do.  I guess I am trying to give back to the community that cared for me when I did not care for myself.

What a wonderful week it was!

Obamacare, commonly known among those in the know as "The Affordable Care Act,"  stands as is.  After a massacre in Charleston of 9 Blacks in a church, the Rebel flag has been removed from the flagpole at the Capital.  And discrimination for my gay comrades has ended and they are free to marry.  Imagine that!  I took up the banner of gay rights over 30 years ago, so this was a real victory to me.

Of course, with the SCOTUS ruling, comes the "Bible Thumpers."  Relax!  I am one myself.  I tout the Bible to anyone that will listen.  I preach love, understanding, forgiveness, acceptance, kindness, and truth.  But being on social media, there is always an opinion and a lot of links to prove a point.  So it upset me yesterday when a link was posted to "prove by the Bible" that gays can not only not marry, but as near as I can tell, not exist and will burn in hell!  To this I will hit the unfriend button every time.

I have lived and worked along side some of the sweetest people in the world who happen to be gay.  30 years ago, when I took up this banner, I knew there would be no turning back.  And I haven't.  My God made my gay friends just exactly as they are.  My God does not make mistakes.  The Old Testament is full of all kinds of things you can not do.  You can not eat shell fish, nor the cloven hoof, and if your brother dies without leaving any children you have to marry his wife and carry on his seed.  But that is the Old Testament.  All things are now new.

I was a care giver through the height of the AIDS epidemic and still volunteer with Southern Colorado AIDS Project (although it has a different  name now).  I was there when the Privacy Act was being implemented.  I was there to hold frail bodies as they left this world.  I was there when they thought AIDS could be caught by touching.  I was there as a shoulder to lean on or as a whipping post for someone lashing out at mans inhumanity to man.  I was there when the medicines were being introduced that have now changed the death sentence of AIDS to a manageble condition.  And through it all, the one group we could always count on for support of a financial nature or a shoulder to lean on when we were tired was the gay community.

The gay community that was called names because they were different.  Because a woman loved a woman or a man loved a man.  Hated in the name of love!  Does that sound like a Godly person to you?  "Judge not lest ye be the judge."  I am proud to be who I am, a straight woman with a whole lot of gay friends.  I am proud to set beside my gay friend in church because I know if I need something, he will be there!

So today I will go worship my God.  My God who accepts me as I am.  My God who loves all people and I will thank the Surpreme Court Of The United States for being unbiased and showing me that , yes there is justice in this world and right does sometimes win.

Another busy day in the life of Lou Mercer

 Hopped in my litttle Ford at 8:00 this morning load with groceries and bound for Los Pobres, the migrant center run by Sister Nancy.  Our church had gathered food stuffs all month and today was delivery day!  And I get to do it!  Hooray for me!

 Snowed last night and the mountains were beautiful.  Since I had almost a half ton of food in the trunk and back seat, I was not worried about sliding off the road.  Can't slide when you are that heavy.  Very soon I arrived.

 I went inside while Rosie made coffee and we waited for the workers to arrive to unload the car.  I knew I had to run back into town and get another load and bring it back before I had to be at the library at 11:00 for another appointment.



 So off I went and very soonly was packed again!








44 bottles of oil and 43 bags of flour later and I am headed back east.







This time Sister Nancy is there and little kids are playin on the computer.  With this picture of serenity in my heart and mind I am once more in the Ford this time headed West to the Library and the delivery of the AIDS Quilts.



My watch and my speedometer are keeping me on track.







Met these two guys from SCAP at the library and dropped off the AIDS Quilts to be hung later, had coffee at the Pantry and then decide to head for the post office.

 

Luckily when I reached for these two packages, I dropped my keys and headed inside.

 

And this was my next stop.  This is the Auto Tower from Colorado Springs that Triple AAA sent to get me back in my car!

 

 

And this is my new friend, Cisco, who actually opened the door so I could retrieve my keys from the floor!  Guess God just thought I should have a little break.  I sure appreciated it.  When you are standing in the middle of a parking lot waiting for some one to open your door, you meet a lot of nice people who tell you,  "Oh, been there, done that!"  And then you don't feel nearly as stupid as you did 20 minutes earlier!  And Triple AAA is very fast!  They call it a "lock out", so I am pretty sure I am not the first one to do it!

 

 

 

Copied directly from MSN News in case you missed it on the PFLAG Blog.

Following her son's beating death 15 years ago, Judy Shepard has become a forceful voice for gay rights and a sort of mother figure for gay teens turned away by their own families.

NEW YORK — The mother who championed gay rights after her son was tied to a fence and beaten to death couldn't bear to sit through the play that has helped keep his memory alive for the nearly 15 years since his murder.
But this weekend, at the opening of a double-billing of Moises Kaufman's "The Laramie Project" and "The Laramie Project: Ten Years Later" at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Judy Shepard — seated in an aisle seat to allow for an easy escape — soldiered through the entire five-hour production, which recalls the story of Matthew Shepard's death in 1998.
"I just really didn't feel I needed to watch it because I lived it. And so many of the scenes bring back such horrific memories. I've never felt comfortable crying in public," Shepard said just before the Saturday performance. "It's been 15 years. I should be able to do this now."
Shepard made it through with the help of hugs from well-wishers at the intermissions.
Kaufman, a playwright and director who leads the Tectonic Theater Project, recalled the Shepard murder as a watershed moment that helped create a generation of activists and energize "straight allies" to the cause of gay rights.
"All of a sudden we had an image, we had an event, that operated as a catalyst," said Kaufman, a Venezuelan native who lives in New York.
The original play was born from the question of why Shepard's murder resonated more than other hate crimes, Kaufman said. The play has been staged more than 1,000 times.
Ten years after Shepard's death, Kaufman and Tectonic returned to Laramie, Wyo., to produce an epilogue and to interview Russell Henderson and Aaron McKinney, who are serving life sentences for the murder.
Nine U.S. states have legalized same-sex marriage, and in March the U.S. Supreme Court will hear a challenge to the U.S. Defense of Marriage Act, which defines marriage under federal law as being between a man and a woman, and whether Proposition 8, a California ballot initiative that outlawed same-sex marriage, should be struck down.
ANATOMY OF A MURDER
Henderson and McKinney confessed to meeting the 21-year-old at a Laramie bar on the night of Oct. 6-7, pretending to be gay and offering him a ride home, with the intent to rob him. They grew enraged after Shepard made a sexual advance, they said, and took him to a desolate area in the outskirts of town, tied him to a fence and repeatedly struck him in the head with a handgun.
Shepard was close to death when he was discovered 18 hours later and he died in a Colorado hospital on Oct. 12. In her 2010 book, "The Meaning of Matthew," Judy Shepard wrote that while she was at her son's side, she was barely aware of the rallies by thousands of well-wishers in cities across the country.
Judy Shepard, who is soft-spoken and shy despite her years in the limelight, says she is a reluctant advocate. But she has become a forceful voice for gay rights and a sort of mother figure for gay teens turned away by their own families.
"Many of us feel that Judy is the mother we never had. But it goes way beyond that," Kaufman said. "It's a story of a person who was put in an untenable situation and got the skills to triumph in that situation."
Shepard, who still lives in Wyoming, heads the Matthew Shepard Foundation and has fought for gay rights in her home state and for a federal hate crimes bill, which President Barack Obama signed into law in 2009 with Shepard at his side.
"I did what people didn't expect me to do, which was not go away," she said. "As a straight person, I have a gravitas that someone in the gay community saying the things that I say would not have."
She said she has been frustrated that change in Wyoming, also the setting of the 2005 film "Brokeback Mountain," has come slowly. The state has no hate crimes law and this year the legislature rejected a gay marriage bill and a domestic partnership bill for same-sex couples.
Before the performance, a man who said he was about the same age as Matthew Shepard would be now tearfully thanked Shepard for her advocacy and said gay people "could not have had a better angel and a better mother."
Shepard's eyes also filled with tears, but she quickly regained her composure, saying: "This is what happens when you piss off somebody's mom."
 ——

The year in review.

Here we are at the end of the year again.  I have been here 71  times and it never ceases to amaze me how many people are off and running to the party.  Not me.  I can not stay awake that long.  I will put on a big pot of black eyed peas so I can eat them tomorrow because that will bring me good luck.  Or so I hear and the way my luck runs, I do not want to take any chances!  Actually, my life is pretty good.  Few bumps here and there, but nothing insurmountable. 
January started out with a bang.   My dear friend Sherman was told his cancer had become active and invaded  his spine.  This would set my course for the rest of the year, if not the rest of my life.  His friend, Libby, who was his office manager when he had his business in Denver, came to act as his liaison with the medical community.  She and I became very close friends over the next few months and remain so today.
His very good friend, Mark, came from St. Louis and stayed for 3 weeks while he was in radiation.  Mark and I became good friends and like Libby, it remains so.
I lost him on July 13, which just happened to be Friday the 13th.  I think he might have done that on purpose.  He just had that kind of sense of humor about him.
I met his family and keep in touch with them.  I plan on going to St. Louis this next year.  I have never been there.  Bret has.  The Babylock company is there so that is where he attends classes.  Maybe I will take the train.  That is my plan.  Stop in Hutch.  Stop in St. Louis.  Finish in Dallas, and then reverse the whole thing.  Sounds like a dream come true.  I will probably sleep all the way through the trip.
I "self" published my novel Chapter One...Loose Ends and was able to place a copy in Sherman's hands before he passed away.  That was a shining moment for both of us.  And while I have not sold nearly enough copies to pay the publishing costs, it has been very gratifying.  I am working on a story line now that he and his brother requested.  It is purely fantasy and is what "could have been."  That can be read here.  Some of the descriptions will be real and the basic story line covers some of our time together and how we met.  I think it will be fun.
I did remain active in SCAP through the year and we had luncheon every second Tuesday of the month and several cookouts in the park.  Attended the movies once.  Played miniature golf.  You know, just fun stuff to escape the harsh realities of life.  World AIDS Day was observed at the Hoag Library on December 1.  Great turnout.
We had the Weavers Sale at the Vail Hotel, the craft show at church and the Jingle Bell boutique.  All those were in November.  I made enough money from those to pay the house insurance and part of the taxes.  I missed my vacation this year. 
I sold some stuff and managed to come up with almost enough money to rip out my carpet and put in wood laminate floors on the main level.  I am busy now trying to empty those three rooms and paint.  You got to remember that I have ceilings that are 14 feet high (at least on one end) so painting is a major undertaking.  Old women and ladders are not conducive to anything good happening so I am looking for children who love me, or a windfall to pay a painter!  Neither one has happened yet.  My only hope, Dan, is busy moving his mother and brother up from Arkansas, so I am open to any suggestion that does not entail doing it myself!
As I reflect back on the past year, I think it was a good one.  The part about Sherman was very sad, but for the most part it was a good year.  I made lots of friends through Sherman and we had some good times.  While I miss him I am keeping busy and carrying on just like I had good sense.  And as for the painting thing...I started this blog early today and about 2  my friend Lyn showed up and now everything is painted except the tall wall, and that is coming tomorrow evening when I have her and her husband to supper.  Life indeed is good!

Happy New Year to you and yours!!

 

I could not stop for death and so.....

I have often heard it said, "There are two things certain in this life; death and taxes."  Yet I read daily how someone is thinking they can beat the odds and off they go to prison; thus proving the first part of the saying and the long list on the obituary page solidifies the second part.  Friends come and friends go.  We move, change jobs, buy a new car, change religions, lose money in Vegas, and on and on; thus proving the adage.  There is nothing that moves this old heart more than a baby whether it be a human baby, a kitty, puppy, fluffy duck, or a baby fox that will grow up to eat my ducks!  It is the circle of life and it never ceases to fill us with awe.  We are filled with a driving need to survive and live life to the fullest.  Time is so short here on earth.

And yet, when a life threatening situation arises, we grasp life with both hands and hang on for all we are worth.  Our adrenal level kicks to high and we go into survival mode.  If it is a dangerous situation we call it "fight or flight."  We read about a complete stranger who wrests the child from the jaws of death, sacrificing himself for someone he does not know.  Or the soldier who dies in a forgien land to protect or freedom. 

But so much of what threatens our existence is buried inside where we can not see it in the form of cancer, AIDS, heart disease, or just plain old outliving our usefulness.  At some point in time, on some level of our existence we will face death. I can only pray that when my moment of truth comes I am able to calmly accept and embrace my ride to a much better place.  I had a good friend who flat lined in the hospital and was revived tell me this "I looked at the moniter when the nurses ran in.  It was flat.  I did not hear music and I did not see a bright light.  What I did feel was the greatest calm I have ever experienced in my life. Then the medicine kicked in and my heart started again.  When the time does come I will embrace death and the overwhelming calm with both hands!" 

This is a beautiful poem written years ago by Emily Dickinson.  She is one of my favorite poets and at this juncture of my life I feel this is most fitting.  She summarizes the whole thing better then I ever could.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

Emily Dickinson

I about fainted in my Wheaties!

I had more faith in Burger King than this!  Fast Food = Wendy's or Carl Jr's

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/07/burger-king-manager-fired-hiv_n_1497718.html?icid=maing-grid7%7Chp-desktop%7Cdl15%7Csec3_lnk2%26pLid%3D158651

My first Christmas as a single mom, I think.

I do not remember just when I left the kids dad, but as I recall not much changed.  I was in Hutch and immediately went to work at Skaets Steak Shop as a waitress.  That was the good part about Skaet.  When I was first out on my own, I washed dishes at Skaets for a man named Norman Duschene who was the man who first started the place.  After that there were other owners, but always a Bartholomew working in some capacity there.  So when I left the husband and returned to Hutchinson, it was only natural that I go to work at Skaets.  I think my sister Donna was there at that time.  My  mother was working at the Red Rooster.  Ruth and Al Herrington were the owners than.  I had never waited tables in my life, but I told them how experienced I was and they put me right to work. 
Now I do recall that both Duane and I were having a little problem adjusting to this not being married stuff.  I do not remember when we actually divorced, but we surely must have.  The first Christmas I loaded the kids in the car and drove the 130 miles to his mom's house.  Some how one of us missed the memo and he went to Hutchinson to my empty house.  At that time he lived in Garden City.  Hey!  It has been a long time and a lot of water under the bridge, you know.  I know the first year and a half was pretty confusing.  We at one point, well several points actually, reconciled.  I left Skaets and went to the Red Rooster where I met Gilbert who was a good friend of mothers and he and I became friends.  I did not stay there very long because I was offered a job as short order cook at the Red Carpet by Bob Bailey.  That was a dream come true, because I had always wanted to be a cook.  So I bade the Red Rooster good bye and embarked  on to greener pastures.
So now we are to the second Christmas.  Duane did not come for this one.  My dear Gibby helped me shop and then he played Santa.  A note here about Gilbert.  We always knew he was  gay.  But we loved that boy.  He was so much fun and so kind.  Later he was to move to California and be one of the first of many to die of AIDS.  He became infected after I moved to Colorado and when I left Hutch I never saw him again.  He did keep in touch and we planned to meet for Thanksgiving the year he died.  Bad timing.
But back to Christmas.  We had bought a miniature doll house for the girls.  Metal.  And it needed to be assembled which entailed folding out little metal tabs, putting them in a slot and folding them down.  Well, we put the kids to bed and then decided maybe we should have a little eggnog with just a touch of Rum to celebrate the season.  Let me be the first to say, sharp metal tabs, pointy pliers and eggnog laced with Rum is not a good combination.  Nor is a couple drunks trying to climb a ladder and decorate a tall Christmas tree.  In all fairness I must say I never dreamed a Christmas tree had that many pokey things on it and I would never have guessed how much blood you can smear on the little red wagon and the tinsel without some body passing out.  How those kids slept through all that was more than I will ever know.  Course Gib had to spend the night because he was too drunk to walk to the car.  I actually slept under the tree since that was where I ran out of steam.  I think he must have called someone to come get him cause he was gone the next morning.
The kids were thrilled that Santa had actually came and did all he did.  Man so was I.  He almost bankrupted me, but the kids were happy. 
Lot happened there at 217 West 5th.  Some good, some bad.  I became manager of the Red Carpet, but restaurant work is rarely permanent.  I left the Red Carpet and bought a place on 4th right across from MacDonalds.  Named that one Lou's Kitchen  Had that for a year and then fell in love and moved to Colorado.  Course I fell out of love as quickly as I had fallen in, but such is life.  Colorado has been good to me.  I graduated college with a gold cord.  Married a couple guys, one of which is the one I should have married in the first place.  Helped start a construction company; well actually two construction companies.  Started a trucking company.  I have friends and I have people who tolerate me and I have a driving need to keep moving and changing, which I suppose is good, for the most part.  I think this next year I am going to start downsizing.  Who knows what that means exactly?  Just hang with me and find out!  But first I have to get through this Christmas.

Milton Hershey School and my boycott on Hershey Products.

In case you missed it, this statement was released on December 1, which was World AIDS Day.  I can not let this one slide by and was on facebook until late last night with defenders of MHS. I must say these people are very biased and uneducated.

Here is the entire statement from the Hershey School:Today, Milton Hershey School had planned to file a request in federal court asking the court to review our decision to deny enrollment to a child who is HIV positive because of concerns for the health and safety of our current students.
We had been in discussions with the AIDS Law Project of Pennsylvania, which is representing this 13-year-old boy. Recognizing the complex legal issues, the School was preparing to ask the court to weigh in on this matter. Unfortunately, attorneys for the young man took the adversarial action of filing a lawsuit against the School.
The decision to deny enrollment was a challenging one for us to make. Like all our enrollment decisions, we need to balance our desire to serve the needs of an individual child seeking admission with our obligation to protect the health and safety of all 1,850 children already in our care.
Attorneys for this young man and his mother have suggested that this case is comparable to the Ryan White case. But this case is actually nothing like the Ryan White case. Milton Hershey School is not a day school, where students go home to their family at the end of the day. Instead, this is a unique home-like environment, a pre-K to 12 residential school where children live in homes with 10 to 12 other students on our campus 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
In order to protect our children in this unique environment, we cannot accommodate the needs of students with chronic communicable diseases that pose a direct threat to the health and safety of others.The reason is simple. We are serving children, and no child can be assumed to always make responsible decisions which protect the well-being of others.
That is why, after careful review and analysis, we determined we could not put our children at risk.

By Dan Stamm for NBC News (Philadelphia)

Now, my take on this.  I am sure the MHS is a privately owned and privately funded school and I am sure they do not have to let this boy in.  That is neither here nor there.  What upsets me is the reasoning and ignorance behind the statements "our decision to deny enrollment to a child who is HIV positive because of concerns for the health and safety of our current students." and "In order to protect our children in this unique environment, we cannot accommodate the needs of students with chronic communicable diseases that pose a direct threat to the health and safety of others."
We work very hard teaching people that HIV/AIDS is a chronic disease and must be managed as such, and then we encounter educated people like this that runs screaming from a 13 year old boy who carries the infection, just breaks my heart.
I volunteer with a group that is funded by Ryan White.  The Clinic is funded by Ryan White.  Education is one of the main goals of Ryan White.  The White family did not ever want another child to go through what their son went through, hence the goal of education.  We deal with AIDS clients on a daily basis.  I feed them, hug them, kiss them good bye.  I have set by bedsides as life ebbed from the frail body and held them so they were not alone.  I remain negative.
One of the defenders last night told me they have a trust fund and do not need my piddly amount of money that I spend on Hershey products.  That came as a shock to me because I use a can or two of cocoa every month and sometimes I grab a candy bar.  I will not go into all the conversations on facebook last night, but I must post this one.  Well, never mind.  They have suspended all posts on their site and  it is gone, but I remember it and it went like this "I AM A FIREFIGHTER AND GO TO THIS SCHOOL AND I DO NOT WANT HIM HERE!"  There was more, but it is all a moot point.
So I say this to you;  I will no longer buy any Hershey product. I can not in any way bring myself to put another cent into the coffers of a  member of this world community that refuses to be educated in a disease that strikes the innocent as well as the not so innocent.  We are all God's creatures and Hershey makes no mention of compassion, understanding and they are sending 1,850 students into the world every year to carry on thier message of intolerance.  If the people I encountered on thier site last night are any representation of these self same students I do not want to meet any of them on the street.  They have become mean intolerant big people.  I will stay here in my little world and do my humble service to the clients who need me and I will send a donation to this kid as soon as I get a site for him.  Not for his legal fund, but because it is kids like this who become the Ryan White's of tomorrow.


 
now:\r\nhttp://gan.doubleclick.net/gan_click?lid=41000000005217789&pubid=21000000000389168\r\n\r\nOr,

Hey, I may be on schedule with WAD!

There is my little slide show.  I went down last night and actually started the AIDS Ribbons.  See on World AIDS Day, which will be December 1 at the Hoag Library, I have much to do.  First I had to make 2 new panels for friends who have passed this last year.  I got that done on Saturday.  They will be dedicated at our program by Rev Jeannine Lamb and Rev. Mark Hild.  That is always a very solemn occasion.
I also need to make cookies for the reception and gathering time.  I have a freezer full of those already.  See PFLAG gives out goodie bags to all the clients at the SCAP Christmas party.  So since we need 36 bags this year and have very few bakers, I will do my share.
The last thing on the agenda is our candlelight service.  This is when we dedicate a ribbon to someone who has died from AIDS.  I have 50 made and will probably do another 25 or so.  Already bought the sharpee to write the names with .  We then take them out side to a tree and hang them on as we call out thier name.  Some times we tell a  little about them.
Eddie Three Eagles and his group will sanctify the tree and grounds as per native traditions.  Now this year is special, or at least to me it is.  The Pueblo AIDS Memorial Quilt, which is my personal project, will hang on the 4th floor of the Library for one full week.  I need to write up a thing on what this is and how it came into fruition.
This will once more be an all day event.  Not at the Library, per se, but both colleges will be doing testing.  That is always a busy time.  Last year we only did the PCC campus and we had no positive results.  In this case, positive is not good.  We are testing for the HIV and positive means you have it.  So we want negative.  We are hoping for the same thing this year.
So this is what I been up to.  Hope to see some of you at the Library.  We are shooting for a 5:45 P M start.  See you there!

Just a note to let you know.

Just want to let my friends know that I will not be participating in the SCAP Walk in the Garden which is this Saturday.  I raised my money, but in the process became disenchanted with the process.  After much deliberation I want to say that the Southern Colorado AIDS Project, while a worthy endeavor, is no longer a fit for me.  I will continue to do the Social Luncheons once a month, but there is where my allegiance will end.
I wish them well and my best to all the clients.  Better days ahead I am sure.
There is an old saying I learned at my mother's knee..."It isn't whether you win or lose, but how you play the game."  I choose to take the high road.