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!
